Sunday, 20 November 2016

A Creation Myth

Hazel is a wonderful character with many attributes, some of which you all know about and a lot of others which may only colour your dreams. 
I can best describe him as being a great old lad, though there are still many things which I do not know about him. On occasions we have long talks on a variety of subjects which interest us both.
The greatest problem I have with him is knowing when he is telling the truth and not simply filling in time with nonsense.

One night we were sitting by the fire and I asked Hazel about his fosterlings’ name.

“Her name is very unusual. I have heard of your folk using Irish and English names like Sean, Seamus and even Siobhan or Bizzie for women folk, but never before have I come across Droocta ? ”

Hazel leaned back in his favourite corner and scratched his head for a while and then with eyes twinkling he leaned forward and with a big smile and said,

“Ah her true naming will take awhile, may be even years afore her character comes shining through and she be named then for what she be. Do you see ?”

“I didn’t realise that Hazel, yes, I can see the rightness of that, but what does Droocta mean?”

Hazel gave an even bigger smile saying, 

“Well, rightly it isn’t her name at all, it’s her growth-place. 
What you call a Pod, is in human Irish Druchta, in our language it is Droocta.
Our language has differences and is older. Now do you understand ?”

I frowned at what he had to say for I was mystified.

“So are you saying that she doesn’t have a name at all yet ? ”

Hazel then spoke without a smile on his face.

“Ha’h now you be getting it, no, she don’t have no name of her own. 
After while I shall be considering a seedling name for her when I know what might be fitting. Then down along the row of time another will give her a different name and that too might change, who knows?”

Hazel stopped talking and looked me firmly in the eye. 
This time there was no twinkle in his eyes, no humour about him. 
He was as serious as I had ever seen. I knew to stay silent.

Time passed and eventually Hazel momentarily gave a slight smile and started to speak. 

“We, who you humans have many names for such as Elves, Faeries, Gnomes, Trolls and Pixies or Piskies, are created by Mother Nature. 
We know Her as the Goddess Derbilla. 
Our creation of each individual occurs at a time when the stars and planets, together with the sun and moon are aligned, for it is then that stirrings take place deep within the earth. 

Our new ones are formed, each seeded within a green fungus, the droocta, which protects the new life. Similar to a mushroom, the droocta pushes its’ way through the earth out into the sunlight and the new one is cradled within. All of my folk began this way and we stay within our ‘pod’ for five years.”

Hazel then stopped, returning to his normal self he said, 

“I have done a lot of talking, me throat is fierce raw so now how’s about filling 
me cup Boss ?”

“It is a pleasure Hazel and thank you for telling me about your creation” I replied. 
For the rest of the night the whisky flowed down his throat until all the bottles were empty.

Drifting off

Poor old Hazel fast asleep and snoring loudly after too much excitement!


Perhaps you, my readers, would like to help Hazel and suggest a name for her early years and you never know what Good Luck may come your way !

The nurturing and caring Hazel.

©MRL 2016

Tuesday, 15 November 2016

An Ancient Irish Custom


Fosterage is an ancient Irish custom where children were placed with an elder to be educated and reared in the ways of the clan. 

So perhaps it is of no surprise that this school of thought is also the hereditary method of rearing the young by those of the otherworld, namely the Sidhe or as some would term them the Faerie Folk.

Many of you will already know of our long term resident, the truculent and sometimes irascible Hazel who has a fondness for more than a drop of the hard stuff, though as he frequently reminds me, it is just his nature and who can argue with that, for he is one of natures’ beings.

We arose the other morning and Hazel was missing from his normal abode. Not a sight nor sound came from the undergrowth where he rests and with no tracks to follow we did not bother to do a search. He was gone from us for several days and so we concluded that he was off on an important mission.

I felt that he would be back by the time of the next Full Moon, it being an important one.
It is at this time of year, especially when the moon is bright, that he and the lads have many a game of hurling at midnight, running up and down the pitch that lies between the two ancient Whitethorns that stand within three hundred yards to the south of our cottage.

Yesterday was a chilly winter’s day, being one of those when you are glad to be indoors with the heat of the stove flowing over your back, warming you into a sleepy contentedness. 
So here was I, sitting in the corner of the front room at my desk staring idly at the computer screen in a world of my own, when the room suddenly went black. The only light came from the screen so my eyes went to the window to see what the cause of the darkness was. Peering through the glass I saw a giant dressed in colourful stripy trousers.

You can imagine how shocked I was. 
I grabbed my robe from the peg where it always hangs, draped it around me then went outside.
There he was. An eight foot tall Hazel standing in the backyard next to the hedge. 
Well, I had often been told that they were capable of re-sizing themselves but this was the first time that I had been a witness to that fact.

Giant Hazel and little me.

The giant Hazel smiled warmly at me and said

“ I hope that my size did not frighten you,
 if you would just close your eyes for three seconds I will return to my normal height.”

“I am glad that you have returned to us,” I replied, “you have been missed, Hazel and my intuition told me you were on an important mission so I didn’t worry. 

“ Yes, you were right, a very important mission indeed,” answered Hazel.
“I have brought my fosterling to stay, her name is Droocta. As is the custom she will stay in her pod for the next five years.”

Hazel pointed to the stone circle so I turned to see a strange, green pod sitting amongst the leaves.

A strange pod amongst the leaves.

“ Errrr, what can I say? I hope that you will have fun together.” I stammered.

Let me tell you, Droocta is a strange looking child, of different proportions to human children; but  part of creation nonetheless.

Hazel and Droocta

When I left them Hazel was sitting in the circle with Droocta in her pod upon his lap. 
They both seemed very happy.

I really wanted to ask him if the five years that Droocta had to stay in the pod was in their time or ours, for there is, as you probably know, a big difference. 
So do you my readers in the blogging world have any friends like Hazel ?

© MRL 2016

For further Hazel stories please click on links below

Monday, 7 November 2016

Odds and Ends

This squat round tower is situated somewhere I know not where
in the west of Co. Kilkenny.

Grangefertagh round tower which as usual claims to be one 
of the tallest in Ireland.

Grangefertagh Abbey, Co. Kilkenny.
The most oddest thing about the building that part of it was converted into a ball alley ! 
Which is something that I never seen done before, however both now are in ruin.

In a corner of a farmer's field called Ladywell in Co. Laois sits this shrine to 
She, to whom I know as  the Ever present Goddess, Christians know her by other names.

This is me your host in my druid garb
I am showing it to prove that we don't all
wear white robes.