Summer turns to fall, you can sense the changing of the seasons by the smell of burning leaves and a dampness caused by the autumn rains. The stunning vistas of the leaves changing color- the Maple Trees turn bright red, with the Sugar Maple you can see the yellow, orange colors and White Oak and Beech leaves turn brown. You look at the landscape and see a patch work quilt of colors made by Mother Nature for our pleasure as we are eased into the brutality of winter. As a child I woke up to what Jack Frost had painted on my windows; the picture laced with intricate patterns imprinted on glass that resemble lace and snowflakes until the sun melted them to rebuild the next frosty morning. Crisp apples used for bobbing and for making pies. A fireplace ablaze with a roaring fire, everyone wrapped in their sleeping blankets sipping hot chocolate and waiting for the stories to begin.
Momma comes in from the kitchen with her usual big hot mug of coffee, the mug was a Mother’s Day gift from my sister…it has pictures of all the kids decorating the outside.
She puts her cup down on an apple wood table beside the antique Irish rocker as she rocked back and forth, she is draped in a blanket with muted fall colors made by my Great-Great Grandmother.
“It is said back in Ireland that at midnight on Halloween night horrible things happen to children if they are not home and in bed. The tree fairies, they get very angry because this is their time to party, ooh… if any child thinks he is so brave to go out on that night to see the fairies party well they will be mighty sorry”. Ma, takes a sip of her coffee, while we wait with fretful anticipation. We snuggle closer to each other, not from the cold but with an uneasiness that comes from listening to Momma’s stories. “What happen to the children Momma?” I speak up nervously.
“The evening festivities ‘All Hallowtide- the Feast of the Dead’ always started with a meal which was followed by cake with a coin buried inside, if you got the coin you would have wealth in your future. Then after dinner you would carve your pumpkin lantern to scare away evil spirits or the girls would peel an apple- if you peeled the apple in one piece then you would drop the peel and see the initial of the man you would marry. All the children would dress in costumes to scare the devils and fairies away so they could go house to house to trick-or-treat. The fairies are always looking for children to steal away into the forest…never to be seen again. We lit bonfires to keep us safe while we all bob for apples, sing songs as someone plays mournful tunes on the violin. It can be such a merry time if you get home before midnight”. “What happens to the children that are not seen again?” I ask again with vexed concern.
“Oh, I know you would not want to be caught out after midnight but I asked my Momma the same question many years ago…and this is what she told me. A neighbor boy and his brother were determined to see a fairy on that night of Halloween, so after all the festivities and everyone had gone to bed. They slipped out of bed- put on pants and green knit sweaters their mother had made them, tip toeing past their parents and out the door. They could see the bonfire slowly dying, with only embers left. The pumpkins in the windows, still burning to keep the spirits away, as they got near the edge of town the younger brother began to have second thoughts and begged his brother to return home to their soft bed and their parents. But, the older brother pushed on, he said he could not live if he didn’t see the fairies. As they walked along the path, he spotted a bog just off the trail. There was a white mist coming up from the ground and a light, yellow in color dancing around the forest. They realized it wasn’t one light but many little lights leaping and jumping around a small campfire in the middle of a grove of Alder trees. They crept closer hiding behind the underbrush but, the earth was giving away quickly to moss and deep pockets of water. It was getting very difficult to walk, but the oldest brother continued onto the fairies. Before the youngest brother knew what was happening the older brother was dancing, skipping, jumping and flying around the camp fire. Only fairies fly, not the oldest brother, because people don’t fly. The younger brother rubbed his eyes in disbelief…fairies are just a flight of fancy, something parents told their child to keep them in line. The younger brother desperately wanted to shout out to his older brother to come back, had he forgotten that once the fairies saw him he won’t be allowed to leave…he would be lost… his brother would never come home again. The fairies had seen the oldest brother and welcomed him, giving him something to drink and eat.
As they danced you could hear the flutes and violins of the forest being played by the sounds of nature. All the sounds you hear as you walk on a windy day in the deep forest…the barn owls, the crickets, and leaves swaying make up a melodious symphony.
The oldest brother was now among the fairies, he enjoyed their ecstasy. The younger brother watches from afar afraid to move. The night emerges into dawn. He sees his older brother leaning against a tree stump falling asleep while the fairies dance around him celebrating. The youngest brother was afraid to sleep thinking that he will never see his brother again… but the dawn causes his eyes to close. Several hours pass and the morning birds song awakes him with a rush of energy… he looks over and sees his brother has been replaced by a new tree. The youngest brother jumps up to run over to where his brother once stood. “Oh Mother…Father something is wrong help… help… help…come quick”! The youngest brother ran into the village with an ashen face and out of breath, he finds his family and regales them with the story of the last eight hours.
The family walked to the grove of Alder trees, to find that there was nothing left of my flesh and blood brother, he has been replaced by an Alder tree”.
Momma continued, “This is the story passed down by our family…no other child has been lost to the fairies. They say the sign can be seen when you look at a tree with a large knot on the trunk of the tree. This is another reason why the Alder tree is known as an unlucky tree, no one likes to cut down an Alder tree because it could be someone’s child”.
My Momma stopped rocking and looked into our stunned faces. Our mouths still frozen in disbelief… she realized she had shaken us to the core.
“Now children you know this is just an Irish myth but you know the knots on some trees, well” as Momma moves close to our own faces “they are the children’s faces buried in the trunk of trees…children taken by the fairies on Halloween. You can see them watching you as you walk by!”
Poppa walks into where we are gathered and begins laughing along with Momma, we have a collective sigh of relief and scoot into the kitchen for warm cookies just out of the oven. We know that this is just one of Momma’s stories that we file away until we have our own children and want to scare the life out of them.
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