CELEBRATION OF SPECIAL HOLIDAYS

Samhain Night
by Elspeth Sapphire

They met over the Samhain fire.

Lady and Lord.

Woman and Man.

Her eyes were deep and dark--the sort of eyes a man could get lost in and wander an eternity.

She jumped the balefire, her head thrown back in laughter, before coming to a halt before him. Her fingers trailed feather light down the side of his solemn face.

He swallowed, tried to speak, then swallowed again.

A smile lit her eyes. "You love me."

It was statement, not question.

His voice still in hiding, he managed a small nod.

The Lady reached out her hand and he took her warm fingers in his. Slowly, they began to dance around the roaring fire.

Their steps matched! The Lord was overjoyed! It seemed a good omen on a night filled with omens!

In and out around the fire they wove. They created a design of life, death, and re-birth...a tapesty in praise of the Gods.

When they halted before the embers of the dying fire, the man bowed low in homage. "I am Yours, my Lady!"

A breeze ruffled his hair as he waited for an answer. Finally, it came in a whisper. "Yes. I know."

The answer he desired! He stood once again and looked deep into the universe of her eyes. "My soul is Yours, my Lady!"

The twinkle in Her eyes surprised him. "How can you give me something that has always been mine?" Drawing him into Her warm embrace, she whispered to his heart, "If you have not found me within, do not look without, for I have *always* been with you."

******
The first rays of the sun found a silent man staring into the ashes of a cold fire. The flames had died, but his heart burned still with all that he had found this Samhain night.

Hearken Now, The Darkness Comes

Mists gather in the valleys and pour down the ancient riverbeds to the darkening sea. Gone the fires of autumn's glory, lost to the legions of cloud-swept days and chilling rains. Gone the wild geese flying southward, gone the last of summer's bounty. Mornings rimed with silver frost, evenings gathering gloom for sitting round the hearthfires glow.

Hearken now, the darkness comes!

In the vale under the moor, the village speeds it's frantic pace. Thatcher's finish repairs on thick round roofs to hold out the snows of winter. Children bring in the last of the nuts and withered fruits from the woods. The wheat is threshed and winnowed on the chilly breeze. Woodsmoke rises from the hearthfires and axes ring in the clear air. Down from the moors come the cattle and sheep to the winter fields, come too the pigs from the forest glades. The smell of blood is thick in upon the air as those animals chosen for the slaughter are slain and cured against the winter's needs. The planting begun at Beltane is now the harvest.

Hearken now, the darkness comes!

In the great forests that lie across the land, the leaves form a thick carpet upon the ground upon which treads the King Stag, velvet gone from his crown of horn, challenging all with his trumpeting cries. The bear and the fat squirrels seek their dens. The wolves stir in the cold, and their voices rise in songs to the moon. Now is the time of the Hunter. His shadow flies across the midnight sky, His horn sounds in the wind like thunder, His red-eyed hounds fly on before.

Hearken now, the darkness comes!

She who stands guardian now is no longer the soft Maiden of spring, nor yet the fecund Mother full of the heat of summer. It is Cerridwen now, the Crone, the Hag, who stands without. In dreams and trance you see her, holding the cauldron into which all that live must go. Holding the cauldron that is Death. Gone too the young Lord of Spring, the Summer King. Now is the time of Herne the Hunter, wild master of the Winter's night. Harsh he is and full of fire, Lord of Death made manifest.

Hearken now, the darkness comes!

And in the turning of the year, the walls of time and space become as air, until life and death are as one and departed souls walk again among the living. Here on this most sacred night, as the old year died and the new was born, around the fires the people gathered in celebration. There was wine and cider from the vines and groves, bread from the fields of winnowed wheat, and meat steaming from the slaughter. A great feast and celebration of life to take into the darknss.

Hearken now, the darkness comes!

And as the earth moved onward into the darkness, the veil between the worlds grew thin, and strange beings walked upon the land. See now the pooka shake his tangled mane, the sidhe come forth from out the hollow hills, listen as the bean sidhe sings forth her terrible cry. And against this army of eldritch power, men did wield a greater weapon as fires sprang forth upon the hilltops and lit the standing stones and village greens. Dancing, swirling, leaping past the fires, the people held back the powers of the night with light and music until the dawn came once more.

Yet still the darkness comes!

Turn and turn again the Earth did in its endless dance among the stars. Gone now the villages that lay beneath the downs and among the wolds. Gone the straight track and winding sheep path. Gone the King Stag and the shaggy bear. Yet still we hear an echo of that time and place as we sit to honor our blessed dead, as our children dress as monsters and play in the shadows. We hear the whisper of the Goddess in our hearts, and sometimes, late at night we hearken to the cry of the Hunt high in our crowded skies.

Hearken, for the darkness comes!

And we, the spirit children of that ancient age, we remember. Though we labor not in the fields of waving grain, yet do we too now bring in our harvest. We gather to ourselves the fruits of our projects begun in the spring of the year and ready ourselves for a time of rest and introspection. We unburden ourselves with that which is no longer needful for our survival through the winter of the year.

We the children of this ancient age remember too our honored dead who speak to us again as the walls of this world grow thin. We pass the Cup of Remembrance as we think upon one who has gone before. We remember the good times and the bright things we treasure from their memories, and we allow them to fly free. We make our peace with She who waits for all.

We remember the fears of the darkness, and in our masquerade and games, we come to terms with Death and with change. For such is the meaning at the heart of the feast.

So prepare you now as the darkness comes. Ready the harvest of your hopes and dreams. Light the fires against ignorance and fear. For remember also, that the darkness is but one turn upon the Wheel, it is the darkness of the womb. And the Death we all must face is merely the doorway to the Life to come.

The R a v e n

Edgar Allan Poe (1845)

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore—
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
“ ’Tis some visiter,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door—
Only this and nothing more.”

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow;—vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow—sorrow for the lost Lenore—
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore—
Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me—filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
“ ’Tis some visiter entreating entrance at my chamber door—
Some late visiter entreating entrance at my chamber door;
This it is and nothing more.”

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
“Sir,” said I, “or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you”—here I opened wide the door;—
Darkness there and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, “Lenore!”
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, “Lenore!”—
Merely this, and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon I heard again a tapping somewhat louder than before.
“Surely,” said I, “surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore—
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;—
“Tis the wind and nothing more!”

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately R A V E N S of the saintly days of yore;
Not the least obeisance made he; not an instant stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door—
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door—
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
“Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,” I said, “art sure no craven,
Ghastly grim and ancient R A V E N S wandering from the Nightly shore—
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!”
Quoth the R A V E N S “Nevermore.”

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning—little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door—
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as “Nevermore.”

But the R A V E N S , sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing farther then he uttered—not a feather then he fluttered—
Till I scarcely more than muttered “Other friends have flown before—
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before.”
Then the bird said “Nevermore.”

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
“Doubtless,” said I, “what it utters is its only stock and store
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore—
Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore
Of “Never—nevermore.”

But the R A V E N S still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore—
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking “Nevermore.”

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion’s velvet lining that the lamplght gloated o’er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamplight gloating o’er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Angels whose faint foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
“Wretch,” I cried, “thy God hath lent thee—by these angels he hath sent thee
Respite—respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore;
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!”
Quoth the R A V E N S, “Nevermore.”

“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!—
Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted—
On this home by Horror haunted—tell me truly, I implore—
Is there—is there balm in Gilead?—tell me—tell me, I implore!”
Quoth the R A V E N S, “Nevermore.”

“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil—prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us—by that God we both adore—
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore—
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore.”
Quoth the R A V E N S, “Nevermore.”

“Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!” I shrieked, upstarting—
“Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken!—quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!”
Quoth the R A V E N S, “Nevermore.”

And the R A V E N S, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted—nevermore!

Bro you sure did make putting this poem in hard lol

]The Witches’ Spell

Act IV, Scene 1 from Macbeth (1606) by William Shakespeare

A dark Cave. In the middle, a Caldron boiling. Thunder.
Enter the three Witches.
1 WITCH. Thrice the brinded cat hath mew’d.
2 WITCH. Thrice and once, the hedge-pig whin’d.
3 WITCH. Harpier cries:—’tis time! ’tis time!
1 WITCH. Round about the caldron go;
In the poison’d entrails throw.—
Toad, that under cold stone,
Days and nights has thirty-one;
Swelter’d venom sleeping got,
Boil thou first i’ the charmed pot!
ALL. Double, double toil and trouble;
Fire burn, and caldron bubble.
2 WITCH. Fillet of a fenny snake,
In the caldron boil and bake;
Eye of newt, and toe of frog,
Wool of bat, and tongue of dog,
Adder’s fork, and blind-worm’s sting,
Lizard’s leg, and owlet’s wing,—
For a charm of powerful trouble,
Like a hell-broth boil and bubble.
ALL. Double, double toil and trouble;
Fire burn, and caldron bubble.
3 WITCH. Scale of dragon; tooth of wolf;
Witches’ mummy; maw and gulf
Of the ravin’d salt-sea shark;
Root of hemlock digg’d i the dark;
Liver of blaspheming Jew;
Gall of goat, and slips of yew
Sliver’d in the moon’s eclipse;
Nose of Turk, and Tartar’s lips;
Finger of birth-strangled babe
Ditch-deliver’d by a drab,—
Make the gruel thick and slab:
Add thereto a tiger’s chaudron,
For the ingrediants of our caldron.
ALL. Double, double toil and trouble;
Fire burn, and caldron bubble.
2 WITCH. Cool it with a baboon’s blood,
Then the charm is firm and good.

here is the only thing i can add to the info you found koko;
samhain is as old as the celts themselves whos history runs as far back as 12,000 bc.

wow excellent info

by Jack Prelutsky.

It's Halloween

It's Halloween! It's Halloween!
The moon is full and bright
And we shall see what can't be seen
On any other night.

Skeletons and ghosts and ghouls,
Grinning goblins fighting duels,
Werewolves rising from their tombs,
Witches on their magic brooms.

In masks and gowns
We haunt the street
And knock on doors
For trick or treat.

Tonight we are
The king and queen,
For oh tonight
It's Halloween!

“The Return to Darkyn Woods”
The forest laid still in the waning light of the moon, the silence broken by a single blood curdling scream. As if at once the land is covered in darkness and foreboding, the night itself seemed to pause holding its breathe lest that which walks the woods might here its fevered gasps. It lurks there waiting, sniffing the air for the slightest whiff the smallest particle of its next meal. The beast whose appearance is clouded by shadow drooling its venom cursing the earth itself with its spittle whithers the land.
Its trail leaves the ground scorched and depleted.

i started this piece and then got lost if anyone wanted to add to it that would be great

Darkness Comes
Darkness grows and consumes the light it absorbs the consciences of all things, it permeates the core of existence, it kills the light and the war eternal continues. Light follows the darkness chasing it from the world bringing with it the birth of a new day, another chance to make a difference. The chance to bring hope to anyone who will listen, the hope of a new life and the remittance of old evils. What a beautiful thing, can this be a coincidence or divine.
Darkness comes as it must one cannot exist without the other but darkness always comes. Comes screaming its vendetta against the light, roaring its battle cry and chasing the light from the field. The war never ends, a battle neither can prevail in yet both continue.

wow great stuff folks. It's great to see you back here again. Good story & poems Hawk. Will search some more for some poems.

huggers
Cori

Number of posts : 995 Registration date : 2008-11-16

CELEBRATION OF SPECIAL HOLIDAYS - Page 3 Samhaingreet-1

Let us enjoy HALLOWEEN & SAMHAIN festivities together

Number of posts : 64 Age : 59 Registration date : 2009-04-30

awesome I cannot wait till Samhain... it's my favorite time of the year.... Ben and Chey have so many things planned for the weekend that week... They are both going to a mascaraed party at heir church and Chey and her best friend are going to a play called Judgement.. Chey is going Trick or treating with her cousin and her lil girl and then they are coming back here to drop of lil Ivie while my niece and her boyfriend and Ben and Chey all go to a free concert it the head shop in Morristown.... Oh and also Ben has a party hes going to with his friends....

DarkMaidenn wrote:: White Wolf
A Texas Scary Story

Retold by S.E. Schlosser

She snapped awake out of a deep sleep, screaming aloud in terror.
In her nightmare, a large white wolf had been chasing her around and around the house,
gaining on her with every step until it finally pounced on her and ripped out her throat.
She lay shaking for hours, unable to sleep after such a terrifying dream.
But morning finally arrived, and the day was completely normal.
Celia forgot all about her dream, until the moment her parents reminded her that they
would be going out that night to celebrate their anniversary. Celia turned milk-white.
In her dream, the white wolf had come to kill her while her parents were out celebrating their anniversary!
She started shaking and begging them not to go. Her parents were astonished at
her behavior, and finally shamed her into staying home alone that night.
Fearfully, Celia locked herself into the house as soon as her parents left,
checking every door and every window. She tried to laugh it off as she got into bed,
and finally she shook off her irrational fear and fell asleep.
Celia snapped awake suddenly, every muscle tense. She heard the tinkling of falling glass
from a broken window, and the snuffling sound of a snout pressed to the floor.
It was the sound of a hunting wolf. A werewolf. Real wolves did not break into houses
when there was plenty of game outside. She could hear the click-clicking of the creature’s claws
on the wooden floor. The musky, foul smell of wet animal fur combined with the
meaty breath of a carnivore, drifted into the room.
She could hear the werewolf’s panting right outside her bedroom.
Then her body was out of bed and she sped through the bathroom and down the back stairs.
She heard a soft growl and then the sound of animal feet pursuing her as she raced down
the steps and tore open the back door. A glance at the window beside her showed a reflection
of the werewolf leaping down the last few steps behind her.
Celia’s feet screamed in protest as she ran painfully across the sharp gravel driveway
toward the tool shed with its shovels and baseball bats. Anything she could use as a weapon.
But the huge, red-eyed wolf was suddenly between her and the toolshed, stalking toward her.
The cold wind pierced her skin as she turned and fled around the side of the house.
She gasped as the white wolf howled and took off after her. She could hear the terrifying
sound of the creature’s pounding feet.
Faster, faster, she commanded her legs, panting desperately against the fear choking her.
She would run around the house and back down the driveway, she thought with the clarity
of sheer horror. She felt the wolf snap at her back leg and felt the sting of teeth. She put on speed.
The wolf veered away from her suddenly, and she felt a rush of hope. She couldn’t hear the wolf now,
couldn’t see it in the cloud-darkened night. She kept running around the house,
heading back toward the tool shed. To her intense relief, she heard the sound of a car coming down
the road in front of her house. Her parents were back and would save her from the wolf!
Then her heart stopped in panic as she turned the last corner and saw the shape of the white wolf
as it stood balanced on the porch railing right in front of her. It sprang upon Celia,
huge teeth tearing into her flesh and ripping out her throat.
She fell under the weight of its body, hot blood spilling all over the ground,
and died seconds after she hit the ground. One minute later, her parent's car pulled into the driveway,
its headlights blinding the white wolf as it pulled toward the house.
Frightened, the wolf backed away from its kill and then ran away.

WOW! Great story!

Soul Cakes

These are part of the traditional English Hallowe'en festivities. Traditionally these were flat round cakes flavoured with saffron, mixed spices and currants. Indeed, during the 19th and early 20th centuries children would go 'souling' on All Souls' Day (November 2nd) where they would request alms or soul cakes with the following song:

"A soul, a soul, a soul cake.
Please god missus a soul cake.
An apple, a pear, a plum or a cherry,
Any good thing to make us merry.
Up with your kettles and down with your pans
Give us an answer and we'll be gone
Little Jack, Jack sat on his gate
Crying for butter to butter his cake
One for St Peter, two for St Paul,
Three for the man who made us all."

Soul Cakes were also part of All Saints' Eve superstitions. It was believed that the spirits of the departed would return to their homes on this night. As a result candles were lit to guide their way and food and drink (including soul cakes) were put out for them.

CELEBRATION OF SPECIAL HOLIDAYS - Page 3 Cakes200

CELEBRATION OF SPECIAL HOLIDAYS - Page 3 Cakes200

Soul Cakes

Ingredients

150g butter
150g caster sugar
560g plain flour, sifted
3 egg yolks
generous pinch of saffron
1 tbsp mixed spice
1 tsp allspice
3 tbsp currants
2 tsp milk

Method:
Crush the saffron in a pestle and mortar, add the milk and grind to combine. Sift together the flour and remaining spices into a bowl.

In the meantime, cream together the butter and sugar until pale and fluffy. Beat the egg yolks and add to the creamed mixture a little at a time, beating well after each addition. Add the sifted flour and spice mix and stir in the currants. Add the milk and saffron mixture and enough additional milk to form a soft dough.

Turn the dough out onto a lightly-floured surface and shape into flat cakes about 5 or 6cm in diameter. Transfer to a well-buttered baking tray and place in an oven pre-heated to 180°C and bake for about 20 to 25 minutes, or until lightly golden. Allow to cool on the tray for 10 minutes then transfer to a wire rack to cool completely.

Colcannon

(Potatoes, harvested from August to October, were a part of the feast in Ireland where they were made into a Samhain dish known as colcannon. Colcannon is a mashed potato, cabbage, and onion dish still served in Ireland on All Saint's Day. It was an old Irish tradition to hide in it a ring for a bride, a button for a bachelor, an thimble for a spinster, and a coin for wealth, or any other item which local custom decreed in keeping with idea of the New Year as a time for divination.)

4 cups mashed potatoes
2 1/2 cups cabbage, cooked and chopped fine
1/2 cup butter (avoid corn oil margarines as they will not add the needed body and flavor)
1/2 cup evaporated milk or cream
3/4 cup onion, chopped very find and sautéd
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/8 teaspoon white pepper

Sauté onions (traditionalists sauté in lard or grease, but butter is acceptable.). Boil the potatoes and mash them (do not use artificial potato flakes). In a large pan place all of the ingredients except the cabbage and cook over low heat while blending them together. Turn the heat to medium and add the chopped cabbage. The mixture will take on a pale green cast. Keep stirring occasionally until the mixture is warm enough to eat. Lastly drop in a thimble, button, ring, and coin. Stir well and serve.

Howling Jack: Honey Pumpkin Mead

CELEBRATION OF SPECIAL HOLIDAYS - Page 3 Pumpkin_in_patch

This mead is the color of a ripe peach and smells like autumn leaves - perfect for a Harvest party or Sabbat.

1 sound, hard-rind pumpkin (approx. 2 quart capacity)
Paraffin wax
1 1/2 quarts of water
4 lbs. honey
2 each oranges and lemons
1 pkt. wine yeast
1 tea bag (black tea)

Prepare yeast starter.
Sterilize honey and water by boiling for 10 minutes, skimming the froth as it rises.
Remove from heat; stir in sliced citrus fruits, including skins.
Cool to room temperature; pitch yeast.
Allow to sit over night.

Prepare pumpkin by cutting off the top with a sharp knife. The top must "mate" with the bottom so cut carefully. Clean out the seeds, strings, and membranes of the pumpkin. Rinse out with water.
Pour the must into the pumpking, leaving an inch of air space between the liquid and the rim of the opening. Replace the top.
Prepare the paraffin/water bath: Fill a plastic bucket with hot water, melt the paraffin wax and float it on the water.
Dip the pumpkin, bottom first, into the warm paraffin until it is coated up to its lid. Once the paraffin begins to harden on the pumpkin skin, seal the lid by carefully pouring paraffin over the top, making sure to coat the seam.
Set the pumpkin in the middle of a shallow dishpaaan full of water to keep and thirsty pickle worms at bay and place it in a dark, quiet spot.

Allow to sit for two months, then siphon off and bottle.
Note: It is probably a good idea to rack the mead into a glass fermenter, fitted with an air lock, for evaluation prior to bottling. If the fermentation is not complete and you bottle prematurely, the corks and glass may blow.

Barmbrack
The Traditional Bread of Halloween and Samhain

Barmbrack, or Bairin Breac, is a seasonal Celtic bread typically served during Samhain as the center of a divinatory ritual that revealed fortunes to its recipients for the coming year. To make a traditional Barmbrack, trinkets and charms are always added into the mixture. Upon cooling, pieces of the cake are carefully cut and eaten and the charms divined. Although some of the meanings are antiquated (if not downright insulting in some cases), charms for Barmbrack traditionally include:

•Bean: poverty (or bachelorhood)
•Button: bachelorhood
•A small piece of cloth: poverty
•Coin: wealth
•Matchstick: the husband will beat the wife
•Gold ring: marriage
•Thimble: spinsterhood

Naturally, your own charms and meanings can and should be utilized as a part of your Samhain traditions. Each charm should be wrapped carefully in parchment paper and placed in equal intervals through the bread before its final rise. Remember, when choosing to add charms to your Barmbrack, be certain to warn your guests before consuming!

CELEBRATION OF SPECIAL HOLIDAYS - Page 3 Barmbrack

CELEBRATION OF SPECIAL HOLIDAYS - Page 3 Barmbrack

Barmbrack is a traditional Celtic bread served during Samhain with tea, and is the center of a divinatory ritual for the coming year. To make a traditional Barmbrack, trinkets and charms are always added into the mixture. Naturally, your own charms and meanings can and should be utilized as a part of your Samhain traditions. Each charm should be wrapped carefully in parchment or wax paper and placed equally through the bread before its final rise. Remember, when choosing to add charms to your Barmbrack, be certain to warn your guests before consuming!

•1cup of Orange Spice tea, prepared
•4 cups white flour
•3/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon
•1/4 teaspoon nutmeg
•1/4 tsp Allspice
•Pinch of salt
•1/2 stick butter
•1 package of yeast
•1/2 cup brown sugar
•1 tsp white sugar
•1 1/4 cups luke-warm milk
•1 egg, beaten
•1 cup raisins
•1 cup dried fruit

The evening before, soak the raisins and dried fruit in the brown sugar and tea. Drain before using.

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

1. Sift flour, spices and salt into a bowl. Rub in the butter.

2. Add the yeast to the teaspoon of sugar and 1 teaspoon of the warm milk.

3. Pour the rest of the warm milk and the egg into the yeast mixture and combine with the dry ingredients and the sugar. Beat well and knead until the batter is stiff but elastic.

4. Fold in the prepared fruit. Cover the bowl with a damp cloth and leave in a warm place until the dough has doubled. Knead again for another 2 or 3 minutes and divide between two greased 1 1b loaf pans.

5. Wrap the charms in greaseproof paper and then hide them in the dough. Be sure they are well distributed. Cover again and let rise until the dough comes up to the top of the pan (30 minutes to an hour).

6. Bake at 350 degrees for about an hour, until the top is nicely browned and the bread sounds hollow when thumped.

Keeps about one week in a sealed container, but do note: Stale Barmbrack is still delicious when toasted and buttered!

Spiced WIne

Per 1 bottle sweet red wine add :

1 cinnamon stick

5 cloves

peel of one organic orange

Peel of organic lemon

1-3 peppercorns - whole-depending on your taste

1 star anise

1/4-1/2 cup packed brown sugar - depending on your taste

nutmeg - pinch

Heat until sugar dissolved and hot throughout; serve hot or cool

Better than Hot Cider !!!-

Pumpkin Ice Cream Pie

1 qt/4L vanilla ice cream

1 cup plain canned pumpkin

1/4 cup sugar

1/4 tspn cinnamon

1/4 tspn ginger

1 large or 8 small graham cracker crusts

Take ice cream out of the freezer and let it become soupy. Put in a bowl with the pumpkin, sugar, cinnamon and ginger. Stir, pour it into the crust and set it in a level place in the freezer to harden overnight

What is the difference between Halloween and Samhain?

Pagans celebrate Samhain everyone else celebrates Halloween. But what are the differences between the two. There is one major difference between Samhain and Halloween and that is what is celebrated.

Samhain celebrates the final harvest, the end of summer, the Celtic New Year, While Halloween celebrates the night before All Hallows Day now commonly called the Feast of All Saints, November 1.

The name Hallowe’en is a shortening of All Hallows’ Even, or All Hallows’ Evening. All Hallows is an old term for All Saints’ Day (Hallow, from the Old English “halig”, or holy, compared with Saint, from the Latin “sanctus”, also meaning holy, or consecrated).

In the original Old English, it was known as Eallra H?lgena aefen

Although many of the actives of Halloween are the same as Samhain they are rooted more in Christian Ideology. Like many Christian festivals Halloween was moved close to a related pagan festival it was in 837AD, when Pope Gregory IV moved All Saints day to the 1st November.

Over the years Samhain and Halloween have become inter tangled and so mixed that you can no longer see where Samhain starts and where Halloween begins. For example it would have been traditional for pagan to of carved vegetable lanterns including ones made from pumpkins but today everyone carves Jack ‘O’ Lanterns wildly accepted in common lore to of derived from the character Stingy Jack and the tale of how he conned the devil. In was in 1866 when the carved pumpkin became associated with Halloween and then with Samhain.

Halloween strikes debate with Christians and Pagans, The Pagans (Wiccan’s Mostly) See Halloween as being offensive as it promotes the idea of the “Wicked Witch” While some Christians see Halloween as a danger because it promote the devil and paganism. But the more enlighten on both side see it as a fun holiday for kids where they can dress up and get some sweets that originated in the states based on old customs and Christian influence and has less to do with the Eve of all saints day or Samhain and has lost all religious connection.

It very rear to find any Christian observing All Hallows’ as many see it as a purely secular holiday devoted to celebrating “imaginary spooks” and handing out candy. Although it common to see both pagans and Christians out with their children trick or treating dressed as ghost and ghouls.

The Blue Rock

A Massachusetts Ghost Story

retold by

S.E. Schlosser

The story was told furtively, in lowered voices. Buried treasure. Near the blue rock. A long time ago,
an unknown ship dropped anchor in the surf near Wasque Bluff. A small boat carrying a mysterious figure,
six sailors, and a large box landed on the beach. The sailors dug a deep hole inland near the blue rock,
and the box was lowered into it. As the sailors stepped back, their leader threw a small green package
onto the box. With a huge crash and a flash of blinding green light, the hole disappeared!
The silent group walked back to the boat, leaving behind scorched, blackened earth.

After hearing several whispered versions of the story, two adventurers decided to have a go at the treasure.
They would meet at the rock at midnight. The first chap arrived early. Tired out from his long walk,
he leaned against the large stone and closed his eyes. A sound from the waters jerked him awake.
Turning around, the treasure hunter could just make out the lines of a very large ship, sails set,
coming in fast toward shore. There was no one moving on deck, and no one stood at the wheel.
Yet the ship dodged the shoals and shallows as expertly as any fisherman on the island.
Just when it seemed she would run aground, every sail dropped instantly and the ship drifted
gently forward until her keel lightly touched the sandy shore. And then, with a horrible shout,
the hatch crashed open and a group of glowing skeletons came swarming out onto the deck.
They were a merry crew, joking and laughing as they handed around spades and shovels.
Then they came filing down the plank, carrying a dead body.

The skeletons came right toward the rock. They stopped a few yards from the treasure hunter and
started to dig. Almost instantly there was a deep hole, and the spades rang as they hit metal.
The treasure hunter caught a glimpse of a large box filled with gold and silver,
onto which the corpse was tumbled. As the hole was refilled, one of the skeletons looked
toward the blue rock. It spotted the intruder and came for him, followed by its ghastly crewmates.

The treasure hunter was so stiff with fear that he couldn’t run. The skeletons swarmed around him
like bees and lifted him up, bearing him back toward the hole. Realizing that they intended to
bury him alive with the corpse, the treasure hunter gave an almighty screech that frightened
even these terrible ghosts. They dropped him, and his head fell with a bang against a rock.

For a moment he saw stars. But fear overcame dizziness, and he pushed himself up
and turned to find that the phantoms were gone. No skeletons, no ship, no corpse,
not even any treasure could be seen in the dim light of the moon.
This scared the treasure hunter even worse than the phantoms, and he hightailed it for home.
When his friend arrived at the blue rock a little after midnight, all was dark and lonely.
Quizzed the next day about his defection, the treasure hunter reluctantly told his friend the story.
His unfeeling friend clapped him on the shoulder and said: “Better you than me.”
But somehow, neither of them ever went back to look for the treasure.

Don't Sell My House
retold by

S.E. Schlosser

Life seemed perfect to Mark when the widower brought his new bride Lisa
home to the lovely two-story cottage he had build for his deceased first wife.
Things were very happy for about a year, and Mark was ecstatic when he learned
Lisa was expecting twins. The house was rather small for a double addition to the family,
so Mark and Lisa put the cottage up for sale and started searching for a bigger house.
That’s when the problems began. Suddenly, the cottage would be filled with the distinctive
smell of expensive perfume. The first time Mark smelled it, he turned pale and told Lisa
that it was the scent his dead wife had favored. Then furniture that Lisa had rearranged
moved back to its original place. The books in Mark’s study were taken out of their
categories and put in alphabetical order, the way his former wife had kept them.
The ghost of Mark’s first wife had returned to the little cottage.
But why now, a full year after he had remarried?

One afternoon, Lisa was down in the basement doing laundry while Mark was out
front discussing the sale of the cottage with their attorney. They had just received
a generous bid on the house and had decided to accept it. When Lisa finished emptying
the washing machine, she turned to go back upstairs and saw
a young woman floating a foot above the staircase.

“This is my house. Don’t sell my house!” the woman said. Her pretty face transformed with rage.
She shook her fist at Lisa. Lisa shrieked, dropped the basket of wet laundry, and ran outside.
Slamming the basement door behind her, Lisa locked it and sat down on the lawn,
gasping for breath. All at once, the basement door started shaking violently,
as if someone were pushing against it.

“Don’t sell my house,” the phantom exclaimed again, shaking the door.
“If you sell my house, something terrible will happen to your family! Don’t sell my house!”
The roar of a car engine pierced the ghost’s words, as the attorney bade Mark goodbye
and drove away. Immediately, the shaking and pounding ceased,
as if the departure of the hated real-estate attorney had momentarily appeased the ghost.

When Lisa described the ghost, Mark recognized her as his dead wife.
Until then, he had forgotten that he promised his first wife that he would never
sell the cottage. Mark and Lisa tried to appease the ghost by bringing in a priest to
pray over the cottage. But the house continued to be filled with the choking smell
of expensive perfume. Lisa was afraid for her unborn babies, living in such a haunted atmosphere.
After much discussion, Mark and Lisa decided to defy the phantom and sell the cottage.

On the night following the family’s move, Lisa was struck with a terrible pain in her abdomen.
Mark rushed her to the hospital, where she gave birth to the twins, who were stillborn.
On his way home from the hospital, Mark’s car was struck by a truck, and he was killed instantly.
At the same moment, Lisa sat bolt upright in her hospital bed, staring at an empty
corner of the room. She screamed once in terror at the sight of the phantom floating
before her eyes, then she died instantly from a brain aneurism.

Number of posts : 64 Age : 59 Registration date : 2009-04-30

Samhain Traditions

"Sam" and "hain" meant "end of" and "summer" to the Celts. They observed only two seasons of the year: summer and winter. So, Samhain was celebrated at the transition of these seasons.

Samhain, (pronounced SOW-in, SAH-vin, or SAM-hayne)is the third and final Harvest. The dark winter half of the year commences on this Sabbat. It is generally celebrated on October 31st, but some traditions prefer November 1st. It is one of the two "spirit-nights" each year, the other being Beltane. Originally the "Feast of the Dead" was celebrated in Celtic countries by leaving food offerings on altars and doorsteps for the "wandering dead".

To Witches, Samhain is one of the four High Holidays, or Greater Sabbats. Because it is the most important holiday of the year, it is sometimes called 'THE' Great Sabbat. Pagans consider Samhain the most magical night of the year. It occurs exactly opposite of Beltane on the Wheel of the Year. It is a night of glowing jack-o-lanterns, tricks or treats, and dressing in costume. A night for telling chilling ghost stories by the fire. And a time for seances, tarot card readings and scrying with mirrors. It is upon this night, that the veil which seperates our world from the Otherworld is at its thinnest, making it a Night of Power.

As Witches,we observe this day as a religious festival. We consider it a memorial day for dead friends and family. It is still a night to practice various forms of divinitory arts such as scrying and rune casting. One could never hope for a better Tarot reading than on this night! Samhain is considered a time to wrap up old projects, take a good look at one's stock in life, and consider new projects and endeavors for the coming year.

Bonfire, hearth fire, candle - gaze into the flame and revisit our ancient heritage. Draw friends close and leave an offering for the whispering ghosts. Samhain is here.
Let the Samhain BONFIRE burn high & bright ! Happy New Year 2010

'Listen! The wind is rising,
And the air is wild with leaves,
We have had our summer evenings,
Now for October eves!'

~ Humbert Wolfe (1885-1940)

Number of posts : 64 Age : 59 Registration date : 2009-04-30

Samhain Recipes

Troll Snot, Bug & Mud Pie : Serves 6

1 Packet Lime Jelly
2 Packets Rowntrees Bursting Bugs
2 Packets Chocolate 'Angel Delight'
White chocolate mice for decoration.

Method : Make up the jelly as instructed and when it's cooled but still liquid add the bugs and leave it to set. Once set make up the angel delight with milk as per packet instructions and pile on tope of the troll snot and bug mixture, top with the mice and chill until serving. This recipe is simplicity itself it looks disgusting and the kids loved it.

Troll Snot, Bug & Mud Pie

Samhain Mulled Cider : Serves 8

2 litres of sweet apple cider
½ litre fresh orange juice
½ tsp nutmeg
½ tsp cinnamon
¼ tsp ginger
Cinnamon sticks and orange slices to float in the pot

Method : In a large pan or cauldron if you have one available for cooking, combine the apple cider, orange juice nutmeg, cinnamon and ginger. Simmer slowly on low heat for about 15 minutes. Take care that the cider does not boil. Add the cinnamon sticks and orange slices and served whilst still warm. You can refrigerate any leftover mulled cider, it's nice cold as well.

Samhain Mulled Cider

Derbyshire Thar Cake Serves 8-10

1lb oatmeal
1lb plain flour
1lb demerara sugar
2tsp baking powder
1 tsp ground ginger
3 tbsps milk
12oz butter
1lb treacle
2 eggs

Method : You will need a baking-tin of around 7½ inches x 9¼ inches x 2 inches deep (19cm x 24cm x 5cm), lined with baking parchment or greased greaseproof paper and have your oven set to a temperature of 180°

Derbyshire Thar Cake
In a pan melt together the sugar, butter, milk & treacle. Once melted allow to cool, in a bowl mix the flour, oatmeal and spices together and pour on the melted and cooled sugary mixture and stir until blended. When blended beat the two eggs in a seperate bowl and add to the tharcake mix.You can add a pinch of salt, mace and nutmeg if you want to make it more gingery. Cook at 180° until springy to the touch about 1½ - 2 hours. This warming spicy cake can be made for any occasion or festival, though this Derbyshire recipe has a warming wintry feel. This cake is best made several days before and wrapped in greaseproof paper and stored in an airtight tin. This way it becomes wonderfully moist and the flavours mature making it taste divine!

This is a traditional cake that comes from the beautiful county where I live, it tastes wonderful. Thar cake is a variation of the parkin recipe which is derived from an older, honey-sweetened oatbread. Parkin is associated more with Bonfire Night these days but it was eaten especially at Celtic festivals from 31 October to 11 November. Some people believe Tharcake to be the descendant of the Celtic bannock, cooked in honour of Samhain.

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