New paintings and regular art updates.
Last year we got some blossom on our apple tree but very few fruit. This year despite cold wet and windy weather the tree is absolutely covered in blossom.
The tree is bent over and trained against our fence so our neighbours actually have more of the tree in their garden. I’m hoping the blossom gets pollenated but again I’ve seen very few insects because of the weather. Fingers are definitely crossed on this.
Imagine 500 villagers with flaming torches. Domesday Morris dance group amongst them wearing ‘tatters’ (white shirts and black trousers and boots with waistcoats with strips of cloth hanging loose, topped with hats covered in ivy and bird feathers.
Plus Penkhull brass band, and us, the Mystery Singers choir regaling the crowd with various Wassail songs.
We walked around the boundary of Penkhull and sang in front of the ancient ‘bloody’ apple tree halfway down Trent Valley road, then around to local pubs to sing a wassail to all of them. For the first time in ages I felt happy.
Memory of Doomesday Morris at Penkhull Wassail a couple of years ago. They danced and beat sticks to encourage the ancient Penkhull Apple tree to bud, flower and bear fruit later in the year. They were surrounded by a crowd of people, maybe two or three hundred. Some if us carried flaming torches to light our way. A walk around the boundaries of Penkhull and into local hostelries. I was part of the Mystery Singers choir who sang Wassail songs as we stopped off at the pubs…
Crowds and laughter, mad jolly japes, humans being gregarious. That’s what I miss. Thank goodness for Mysterious madness and eccentricity. Let’s pray to the gods of Wassail for this to come again one day, drink cider, jingle your bells, stamp your clogs, crash your sticks together! WASSAIL!
A song for the Apple Tree. To an ancient tune….thanks to my friend Bruce for the words!
Old Apple Tree, We are Come to Wassail Thee
Wassail Song
Old Apple tree, we are come to wassail thee,
All for to bloom, and to bear thy flowers and fruit so free.
Wassail! wassail! all round our town;
Our cups are white and our ale is brown.
Our bowl is made of a good ashen tree,
And here’s kind fellows as will drink to thee.
Hats full, caps full, five-bushel bags full,
Barns full, floors full, stables full, tallats full,
And the little hole under the stairs, three times three!
Hip, hip, hurrah! shout we.
I don’t know how people add backgrounds on zoom calls, but I can’t seem to do it on my pc. But it does intrigue me as sometimes the person seems to melt into the background. I’m this case my friend ended up looking a bit like a green man! I decided to add texture so he was not identifiable and also to crop off his name.
X
Mallaband-Brown