An Un-Official Publication of the Reformed Druids

Beltane Y.R. 41
(April 28th, 2003)

Volume 19, Number 3

Beltaine, May Day, the beginning of the Season of Life, and best known of the Old Celtic High Days. Bonfires are still lit on hilltops in Scotland and Ireland to welcome Belenos, the returning Sun. Beltaine is historically when the cattle, which had been sheltered and stall fed, were now moved out to summer pastures in the hills and mountains. The cattle and other herd animals were driven between two fires made from sacred woods such as rowan, birch, or oak as an act of purification, protection against disease, and to insure their fertility for the coming year. This is a practice from Druidic times and may have its origin in cleansing the animals of parasites (dropping off from the heat) or harken back to when cattle, particularly bulls, were sacrificed at Beltaine.

Cattle were extremely important to early Celtic people. Animal husbandry was probably the dominant food producing activity during the Iron Age. The dairy cows provided the only fresh food during the winter months. There is some speculation which was the more important function of the cattle herds. One study of the bones from Dun Aillinne, Co. Kildare, shows by the analysis of bones found that the preponderance of animals over six months old were female and therefore milk-producers. If meat production were intended there would have been a greater number of young cattle present. Another study argues that cattle will not give milk unless calves are present and the presence of so many calf remains from Dun Aillinne is due to the rearing of drystock cattle for meat. Or it might have been a combination of the two with milking and harvesting the cattle for meat depending upon the season or historical development. We may never truly know.

Wealth was not measured in precious metal but in the number of cattle a person owned. Cattle fulfilled many purposes: they produced butter, milk cheese, provided meat, hide, horns, as well as strength for ploughing and pulling, proving them to be of extreme usefulness and value in an agricultural society. In early Irish hero-tales wealth was measured in cattle. The importance of the Celtic gentry was calculated not so much in terms of the size of their property as by the number of cattle they possessed.

Stuart Piggott tells us how in his Ancient Europe: A Survey (Aldine Publishing Company, 1966) that "in the opening scene of the 'Cattle-Raid of Cooley' (Tain Bo Cuailnge), Ailill, chieftain of Cruachan, and Medb his wife, boast of their respective riches, and cause their possessions to be brought to them in reverse order of their value, beginning with cauldrons and other vessels, followed by their gold ornaments and their clothing, and then by flocks of sheep, their horses, their herds of pigs, and finally (and so most important) their cattle. The unit of all property (including bondswomen) was a cow." Cattle were the measuring stick of worth and of value, though were not the medium of exchange as money.

The story of the Tain revolves around two supernatural bulls, Donn Cuailnge (the Brown) bull of Ulster and Finnbennach (the White-horned) bull of Connacht. It focuses around a cattle raid by the people of Connacht against the people of Ulster led by Queen Medb of Connacht against CuChulainn, hero of Ulster. The two bulls also wage battle with Donn Cuailgne being victorious over Finnbennach, though dying soon after.

The importance of the bull, and especially white bulls, is evident especially in Druidic practice. In the famous mistletoe cutting ceremony Pliny in his Natural History XVI, 95, records:

"Having made preparation for sacrifice and a banquet beneath the trees, they bring thither two white bulls, whose horns are bound then for the first time. Clad in a white robe, the priest ascends the tree and cuts the mistletoe with a golden sickle, and it is received by others in a white cloak. Then they kill the victims (i.e. the cattle), praying that God will render this gift of his propitious to those to whom he has granted it."

The bull was also used in divination. The practice of tarbh feis (bull feast or bull dream) was used to obtain illumination and also performed to determine the rightful king. In Ireland again a white bull was killed and one man would eat of his flesh and drink of the broth in which the bull was cooked. He would then lay down to sleep wrapped in the bull's hide. Four Druids would chant a spell of truth over him and the sleeping man would obtain a vision of the new king in his dreams.

In Scotland a person might know the answer to an important question about the future by wrapping himself in the still warm hide of a freshly killed bull. He would then go into a trance wherein the answer would come to him in a vision.

The supernatural importance of the white cow is also not left unnoticed. The cow was the sacred animal to Bride and to her mother Bóann ("She who has white cows" as translated by Celtic scholar Anne Ross). Bóann was a goddess of sovereignty and as such was associated with cattle. Bride was protectoress of the flocks and harm would come to any that harmed her cattle. Bride was said to be fed from the milk of a white red-eared cow, which was her totem animal. In Celtic mythology white animals with red ears were considered supernatural or otherworldly. In artwork she was often shown to be accompanied by a cow.

Until at least the late 19th/early 20th century sending the cattle to summer pastures on Beltaine was still practiced. In Scotland it was known as "shieling" (àiridhean meaning the summer residences for herdsmen and cattle, also hills or pastures. E. Dwelly). Families of the crofter townland in Lewis in the Hebrides would gather the flocks, the cattle, horses, sheep, and goats together and spend the day driving them to the moorland. Small huts were set up for the women and small children who tended the herds. The men from the town would come up to visit and the young men would court the maidens. Andrew Carmichael who collected many of the incantations, prayers, and rites of the Scottish people in his Carmina Gadelica, recorded this driving incantation that was sung to the flocks for protection as they were lead to the summer pastures. It contains a mixture of both Christianity and pre-Christian-paganism.

Carleton Grove: News from Minnesota

The big news is, of course, the 40th Reunion on Beltane weekend from May 2nd to May 4th, which will be discussed in a later article in this magazine. Merri will be stepping down after four years as Archdruid, a record, and being succeeded by Corwin Troost '05 and Steve Crimmin '04. The next issue of the Missal-Any will have an extensive description about how the events were celebrated. crimmins@carleton.edu ) and Corwin Troost '05 ( troostc@carleton.edu ).

Akita Grove: News from Japan

Pat and Nozomi's baby, Taiyo, is doing well and treating his parents to endless nightly vigils to improve their Druidry. As Pat says, "The first eighteen years are the hardest."

Hemlock Splinters Grove:News from New York

Winter went out quietly last week, the temperature rose into the sixties, the trees began to bud- and we got hit with one of the worst ice storms in years. This must be why they call Nature a mother. Hemlock Splinters grove will celebrate Beltain on May 3rd with a May pole, bonfire, music fest and general revelry. Anyone in the area is welcome to attend, call 315-561-6387 for directions.

love, I.

Digitalis Grove: News from DC

Eric is moving in June to Boston; Mike is graduating from his Master's program in May, and will be able to devote more attention to a new job search and pursuing Druidry.

Dravidia Grove: News from Maryland

(The editor apologies for leaving out Dravidia Grove's News from the Spring Missal-Any, so this issue presents two season's sets of news.)

Hello all,

Well things are looking up here, the snow is melting and we are all getting ready for the first day of Spring. Also, have bought a rather decent telescope at a very good price and am enjoying a new found look at the heavens. Will take a while to get used to the telescope, but should be quite proficient by the next letter. All is well here, we have a lot of snow recently and now a lot of flooding due to the melting.

Hopefully we won’t experience the droughts we had last year...Have spent a lot of time classifying the text I have acquired and feel that I have only just barely gotten through the first 20 files. not bad for a star... but uh oh, I have more than 400 files... ... AHHHHHHHHHH...Well you all should know that research is time consuming so back to it.

Dolanimus

Just spent two weeks in Indiana visiting the kids, and got through about five more files. Had some great views with the telescope, Jupiter seems to be the best. Not much else going here, the weather is just starting to break here in Maryland, and it is time to start the herb garden.

Dolanimus

Bamboo Grove: News from Delaware

Spring has been rather timid this year- after a glorious day in the sun, it snowed the next day! Nevertheless this is the time for growth and renewal and as I sit here writing, there as squirrels racing about my balcony (three stories up!),waving their tails sassily each other as one or the other claims victory as "king of the hill," er, balcony. The robins, blue jays, and cardinals have made their appearances, along with the crows who braved the winter weather with their everlasting good humor and raucous laughter.

The Arch-Druid made it through the winter just fine—there's a nice spot on my desk that lets him/her bask in the soft sunlight during the day. All the Muses seem to be thriving and indulging in the good life.

Blessings to all in this time of growth and renewal!

~brightmirage~

Eurisko Grove, News from Virginia

we conducted a hiking ritual for ostara. our main harbinger of spring has been our turtle coming out of hibernation. the upcoming season of beltaine will be additionally hectic. we are moving from an apartment to a house. both jacquie & gwydion will be conduction workshops at the circle of the fold information area during the blue ridge pagan alliance beltaine festival in charlottesville va. gwydion will also be manning a both for PAAN (pagans against animal neglect) at the gathering of the tribes festival in isle of wight va. gwydion is continuing to offer informal classes on druidry thru the earth based religions group at langley air force base on alternate fridays. for ostara we also mulled white merlot with cloves, jasmine, rose & basil as a "waters-of-life" for the season. the tuatha de danann came from the north, and the clouds and mists that conceled them made it easy for them to land in ireland at beltain, the first day of may, unseen and unopposed by the firbolg.

MOCC--Muskogee/Mother Grove, News from Oklahoma

Eggs and wild Onions were the order of the day for our Ostara celebration. It's said around here that the only thing that's REAL Indian food is wild onions and eggs, and with all the Cherokees here locally, the "natives" were all asking us where we got OUR onions. Oddly enough, Native foods are becoming more scarce. You see, there have been a lot of non-traditional harvestings in recent years, with people ripping up the plants in huge clumps, even by Natives with precious little time to live life and harvest at the same time. No more harvesting wild onions one by one, it seems, which is the old way I was taught. No more leaving at least one out of ten plants to reproduce, which is also the way I was taught. I guess old Indian folkways are disappearing because of the modern rush. But at the same time, I guess that the rapid disappearance of possum grapes and persimmons and such are also the victims of "rush" and "more for me." So now, the wild onions are getting fewer--something we actually noticed about five years ago around the railroad right-of-ways around here--and the Natives are asking us, in effect, "Where did the wild onions go?" Another possibility, that lives side by side with this one, is that the younger Natives are just not learning how to identify the plants. You can't make the same foods your grandma did if you don't know what those plants look like, not even if they're growing in your own back yard. When we drummed in Spring, I don't know if we were welcoming the change of seasons as much as drumming a dirge for the change of spirit.

Oaken Circle Grove MOCC: News from KY

The Oaken Circle Grove would like to announce a name change we will now be called The Oaken Circle. We are currently planning our Beltaine gathering scheduled for May 3, as the warmer weather picks up so has our activities; also the interest in the circle has once again started to grow. We have had several new inquiries and met with a few potential circle members.

Our Ostara gathering was a success, we had old friends among us as well as new, the children colored eggs and had a wonderful time.

I guess that about wraps it up. If you are interested in our circle please go to
http://oaken_circle_grove.tripod.com/oakencirclegroveky

Have a Blessed Beltaine,

Sherry

Oaken Circle
Founder

Cylch Cerddwyr Rhwng Y Budoedd Grove, News from Oregon

Order of the Mithril Star's next online Druidcraft 101 class begins June 21 and will last about 16 weeks. To enroll, send a blank email to druidcraft101@yahoogroups.com or enroll online at http://groups.yahoo.com/group/druidcraft101 For more details, visit http://www.mithrilstar.org/d101.htm

The next Druidcraft 202 course (A Walk Through the ARDA) will begin June 21. This will be a revised class that will encompass the NEW improved ARDA and will take approximately 40 weeks! (Not for the feeble!). Once again, Norm Nelson and Michael Scharding will be joining us to share their unique perspectives. To enroll, send a blank email to druidcraft202@yahoogroups.com or enroll online at http://groups.yahoo.com/group/druidcraft202 For more details, visit http://www.mithrilstar.org/d202.htm

OMS is organizing a "Rogue Valley Druid Summit" where the leaders of all the Druid groups represented in Southern Oregon can meet and share concerns, methodology and simply fellowship. RDNA, ADF, Henge of Keltria, Tuatha d' Brighid and Sisters of Avalon all have representation here.

Sister Ceridwen is deeply involved in her beginning and intermediate Astrology classes. For info on upcoming classes (held online) go to http://www.mithrilstar.org/huntersmoon

OMS wishes to express our congratulations to the rest of RDNA on the celebration of 40 years of existence. Best wishes also to those making the pilgrimage to Carleton. May your journey be safe and may the Earth Mother grant you enlightenment and inspiration.

May you never thirst,

Ellis "Sybok" Arseneau, AD
Cylch Cerddwyr Rhwng Y Bydoedd Grove, OMS-RDNA

Nemeton Awenyddion, Llwyn of the White Dragon, Hills of Cohasset, CA

Things have been very exciting and busy in our Grove and college. I just finished another Intro Seekers Class and will be doing the initiations for three new members on Calon Mai/Beltain, that will be part of our ritual. We are holding our annual Beltain campout from May 3rd-4th, ritual, potluck feast, Awenyddion ring, and late night ritual where one new initiate will be chosen by the gods for the all night divinatory quest to Gwynfyd Knowledge, bringing us all the message of the omen they've seen by the next morning, this will be done in a short but intense ritual where we will chant an invocatbarion for the calling of the new initiate to be reborn in Gwynfyd during the nights dream quest. We will chant while we pass around the bag of Welsh bannock cakes as the gods choose who gets the burnt one. This will be done in our stone ring Nemeton while the area remains charged after the seasonal ritual. If interested in attending please contact: jbeltain@pacbell.net

/|\ Our plans to buy clan land in Bangor pretty much dwindled down to nothing when the person who owns the land for sale flaked on us and changed her plans. I've had a strong feeling though that these Hills I live in now are keeping me here for something greater to happen, then some beautiful land came up for sale here just a few miles down the road--below snow level, and it looks like we have a good chance at manifesting it, and it would be enough for us to have a kindred village after all.

WssL,
Rhiannon

Poison Oak Grove, News from California
Publisher of "A Druid Missal-Any"

What is that sound the trees make when there is no wind, there is no rain, naught but the stillness, perhaps the gentlest of breezes? I walked up to the grove site and beyond to the Orinda Highlands one Saturday evening to do the Dusk Salutations. Coming back down the hill I heard I heard what sounded like rain. But wait, I had just seen the first visible star and wished upon it. The sky was clear. What was making that sound?

I sat down on the trail to listen and to see if anything would drip on me. Perhaps it was sap falling from the Live Oak trees (quercus agrifolia), like it does from the sweet gum tree (liquidambar styraciflua)? No, nothing was falling. The sound was louder beneath the trees than it was in clearings, so I know it wasn't insects crawling amongst the leaves. Is this the sound of trees talking?

Members of Poison Oak Grove, including Penny the dog, sitting on the curb watching the Second Interfaith Pagan Pride Parade march down Telegraph Ave. in Berkeley on Sunday, April 13.

Greetings,

We had a very lively Season of Sleep with several songs this year, which Mike tells me will be collected and published in the Green Book Volume 6 this summer.

The winner was Bright Mirage's "I Am" in Bardic Salvo #3 on Nov. 28th, 2002. Perhaps Mike and Pat should get award for sheer output, but my very favorite submission was naturally Mirage's. Her work was a powerful example of the questing spirit common in the Reform, and should strike a chord on the heart strings of all the Druids. I am certain that she will make a capital poet someday, despite using only lower case.

As prize, everyone should call Bright Mirage, Bard of the Reform, XLI, until May 2004.

Well, you can stop pestering your inner Bard for the next six months, and just feed your soul on as much inspiration as can, and fatten that poet inside you for the long winter coming up next year. If anyone wishes to undertake the judging for the third Bardic Contest starting next Samhain 2003, then give me an email at ericpowers229@hotmail.com

-Cheers, Eric

Meals Note: Meals are less than $10, I believe for non-students. Attend Druid Meals for the last-minute corrections in schedule, due to weather. To find the right table, look for some kind of Druid Sigil mark on a paper sign posted at the table. A few "older" looking diners talking with students is also another give-away.

If you're really afraid of missing something, tag along behind Mike or someone else, "your Druid-Buddy," for the remainder of the day. Druid Buddies available on request by writing to mikerdna@hotmail.com

June reunion final plans will be posted in the Missal-Any Solstice issue, but posted May 15th on the web site.

Thursday, May 1st

Friday, May 2nd:

Saturday, May 3rd:

Sunday, May 4th:

Mike completed editing the Main volume of ARDA and the volume of the Green Books and has sent off the formatted version for page layout at the Drynemetum Press office in Northfield. Currently, the third volume of Magazines is being assembled. Anticipated web-page posting of the first two volumes is mid-May followed by mailing out before June. Magazine volume should be posted and mailed by the solstice. So be patient, they will be sent out when they are sent out. An e-mailing will be issued as soon as the books become accessible for free on-line, and the full details will be summarized in the Summer Solstice issue of the Druid Missal-Any.

Dear Mike,

I apologize for not being able to attend the Reunions at the Mecca of Druidism, but please read this at a service, if you think it of suitable quality. I was inspired, this morning when I was taking out my liturgical ribbons for a service, and noticed that an application for employment was being yet again delayed. The rest followed naturally.

On Beltane, the Reformed Druids have a custom of switching from white ribbons to red ribbons, for the six months until Samhain. My understanding of this custom goes back to the origins of the RDNA, which was a protest against the unreflecting organizational tendencies of religion, and the tendency of authorities to categorize and vaunt past practices over current experience, by the liberal use of red-tape. Since the 1700s, bureaucrats had the habit of tying up legal documents with red string and whenever they needed to reread them, they had to be cut open again; which they were reluctant to do. As a result many things were never examined again.

In the Reform, it is the Third Order Druids who are most beset and bound by self-imposed restrictions, copious literature, and the encrustation of customs, many of them conflicting. If you notice, most Druids loosely hang their red ribbons around their neck, this symbolizes that they have not locked away the sources of their tradition, but keep them open to constant review. Indeed the constant questions by new Druids, keeps them on their toes, and their understanding timely. The ribbons are more than a decoration; they are a tool held in reserve. What you choose to bind, will be bound, for a while; and what you unbind, will be unbound, for a while; so speak with caution, but with a full heart. And don’t forget, even the newest of Druids will wield the colorful ribbon of Beltane’s maypole; wherein the beauty is in the motion of weaving and unweaving; not the unfocused ribbons in the beginning, nor the snug final pattern.

During the Season of Life, we also add the whiskey to the Waters of Life, and should remember that alcohol too is a poison, but one that in moderation may stimulate, assist in the expression of joy, and build communion; yet used too much, and it often brings sickness, despair and discord. And the basis of those Waters, is simple water; the universal solvent and the supporting medium of life through our liturgical year.

The hand that is always clenched, or always open and flat, is considered deformed, but a healthy hand is one that opens and closes when bidden. We understand that some rudimentary organization is necessary to function, but we leave the options open and flexible to the current needs, rather than building a structure that will outlast our purpose. We cannot always be celebrating and carrying out duties, for we must also have periods of inactivity and contemplation. The Earth is a good example, in which the forces of life themselves have a period of rest during the winter, coming out leaner and hungry. And so we have the Season of Sleep, in which groggy Druids do not partake of the grog, but rather pull up their settled thoughts for review and purification. This is the meaning of the white ribbon, that of cleansing, crystallizing and reinvigoration, whilst the white snow blankets the earth, storing waters that will melt and flood the streams and fields in the spring.

These are my thoughts that I wanted to share. So I ask you on this 40th Anniversary to think about those ribbons when you put them on your necks, what do they mean to you? There are yet many more mysteries in them.

Yours in the Mother,

Eric Powers, O.D.A.L.
February 10, 2003

It was the eve of Beltain when I first heard of Juliana Spring. The Maypole was being danced for the sixth or seventh time while the tall piper and the boy on the fiddle churned out complementary versions of Kati Barri's Wedding. A crowd of brightly colored folks was clustered around the long table bearing our potluck feast and there were flowers everywhere, for it was the festival of spring.

I noticed the young man when he arrived, standing uncertainly on the edge of the clearing, too curious to pass by, too hesitant to join in the revels. He was short, sandy haired, and serious looking. I marked him as an undergraduate from the university nearby. A voluptuous lady with violets in her hair called to him to join us and eat. He came, smiling suddenly, and they were soon conversing freely. I smiled too, at the pleasure of a new face--then I forgot him, for it was time to crown the King and Queen of the May.

The lad stayed on, late into the fire lit night, and sipped the honeyed wine as it was passed from hand to hand. People sang and told stories as the stars yawned back to life, and I watched the couples snuggle together for warmth, wondering idly how many would carry the festivities on into the privacy of the forest or bedroom. When my turn to speak came I rolled out the old yarn of the boy from Cork who fell in love with a harp he could not play. The longing tormented him so much that his mother offered her soul to the Druid if he would give her son the gift of music. The sandy haired lad watched me closely as I spoke, pitching my voice low to the slow crackle of the beech logs. It was an old and beautifully chilling tale that I told, not one entirely appropriate for Beltain. It may have snapped him out of the festive mood. He seemed distracted from then on, and kept peering at me through the flames as the night progressed. Eventually he rose for a mug of mead, and, upon returning, sat down to my left in the spot just vacated by a delightfully tipsy nymph.

Silence stretched between us with the expectant air of impending conversation. At last he turned to me, head to one side.

“Are you really a druid?” His voice was soft and low.

The focus of the group had shifted to the far side of the circle. I considered the flames and reviewed the dozen-odd debates for a pair of slow breaths. There were too many ways to respond to that question, but it had been a day of laughter, and I was in no mood for an argument.

“Yes,” I replied.

The answer seemed to satisfy him. He too stared into the coals, rolling a warmed mug between his hands. Eyes always gravitate towards fire at night. I have always wondered why.

“This is silly,” he remarked at length, still regarding the flames. “I am supposed to be a medical student. I don’t even know why I showed up tonight.” The lad hesitated, uncertain, and I took a sip of my own mead. Suddenly he was facing me.

“Can you really sell your soul?”

I glanced at him, startled.

“What I mean,” he stammered, “is if someone wanted something they couldn’t have so badly that they were willing to sell their soul to get it, could you give it to them?”

I continued peering. His shoulders squirmed.

“Like that story you just told,” he trailed off. His eyes were still on me, embarrassed, but determined.

“Are you serious?”

He nodded, sucking his lip.

I stared away into the stars between the swaying leaves. Laughter from the lingerers drifted through the night.

“If someone you know, or you yourself, wanted something badly enough to sell their soul for it, then I would certainly be willing to talk to that person.”

“It isn’t me,” he said quickly. “It’s my girlfriend. She…She would probably rather tell you herself.”

“Do you want me to talk to her?”

“Yes, I do.”

“When?”

“As soon as possible.”

I considered this. “Could she meet me at the Bubble and Squeak for lunch on Tuesday?”

“I’ll tell her,” said he, breathing heavily. “I can’t believe I’m doing this. My name is Sam, by the way.” He grinned. “I guess everyone knows who you are.” I forced a dry chuckle.

“Pleased to meet you Sam. You should smile more often- you look old when you are serious.”

Sam laughed and turned back to his wine. The cluster across the flames thundered their giggling way into a final chorus of The Rattlin’ Bog, and I stared off into the stars above the treetops. They winked back, which was all they ever did, leaving me to guess at the meaning.

The Bubble and Squeak was a friendly little cafe not far from the university. It had been established by a widowed British matron who had cheerfully wedged her way in between the clothing stores and simply out baked the competition. She employed a small clan of students and mothers, kept university hours, and was willing to cook anything one cared to name. They really did serve bubble and squeak, if you could order it with a straight face.

Juliana Spring found me at my table by the wall. She greeted me by name and I stood, surprised to find her so tall.

“Miss Spring, hello.”

“Sam told me all about you,” she began as we sat, and I grinned, imagining that conversation.

“Are you hungry?”

Her pale face shook slightly.

“Not really.”

Long fingers fidgeted with something at her neck as we sat, her eyes staring, jumping away when she saw me see them. I watched her hands and realized they held a crucifix.

I leaned forward, speaking gently. “I do not bite.”

Juliana started and blushed faintly.

“It’s not that. I just don’t know how to begin a conversation like this. I feel like Faust!”

“Faust sold his soul to the Devil,” I smiled. “I am just an ordinary man.”

“Then how can you buy mine?”

I looked away to the budding maples outside.

“What did Sam tell you?”

“That you were a druid, that people seemed to trust you. He told me about the story you shared on Saturday and said he thought you might be for real.” She was looking straight at me now, a question perched upon her eyebrows.

“Have you slept since he told you?”

Her dark hair rippled as she shook the head beneath it.

“Then you should definitely have some food in you.”

We ordered and she told me about herself. She was twenty, a sophomore at the university, and had loved dancing as a child. Her father delivered sermons at the Revivalists Center a few hours south and wanted her to become either a teacher or a nurse. She relaxed as we ate, and a bit of color emerged in her heart shaped face.

“And what is it you want?” I asked when only her coffee was left. Juliana’s body straightened and she looked me in the eye.

“I want to play the harp.”

I blinked.

“Do you have one?”

“My grandmother gave me one when I left for college,” she nodded. “Dad wasn’t going to let me keep it, but I told him I was dating a medical student and taking English classes.” Her eyes dropped. “He doesn’t know we’re living together.”

“Have you got a teacher?”

“No. People have shown me different things, and I have all sorts of books, but to hire a teacher you need money. My father will only help pay for what he sees on the tuition forms, and I’m working half time already to cover the rest. I practice all the time though…”

“How much?”

“Whenever I can. I have to pass my classes, or Dad will have me home, and I have to work to pay for them, but I still play a bit every day.”

“Then what do you need me for?”

“Because, you see. I don’t just want to play. I…I want to be the best in the world.”

On the walk out front students passed in threes and twos, giggling or serious, free and careless. Discoursing passionately on things they would forget completely a few months hence. They had all their options open, these people outside; there was not an irrevocable commitment amongst them. None of them were ready to sell their souls.

“Why?” I asked Juliana quietly.

“It’s what I’ve always wanted.”

“Since when? You are twenty.”

“My whole adult life--since I was ten years old.”

“Why?” I repeated softly. Her eyes were hazel and very clear.

“When I was ten I heard a record of harp music at somebody’s birthday party, maybe in the adults room, I don’t know. I don’t even know what piece was playing, only that it was the most beautiful thing I had ever heard. That night I started dreaming music. It was so lovely, and I knew it was harps. I thought I was listening in on Heaven. In the morning I could still remember some of it, but there is no way to describe music like that, and nothing I could do to reproduce it. I told my Dad, and he said it was a vision sent from God to urge me on to a good life. I told him I wanted to play like the angels I’d heard. He said that that was foolish arrogance and that I could be damned for even thinking such a thing.

“I tried to stop wanting it, to do what he told me, but the dreams just kept coming. Sometimes it’s as if I don’t even sleep, but just lie awake listening all night long. In church sometimes I would forget to pay attention and just sit remembering the music, smiling. I told my father once when he asked what was so funny. He got so mad he hit me. He doesn’t understand.”

“Do you still dream like that?”

“All the time. It’s what keeps me sane, even if it is maddening. I used to think that all I needed was a harp and that then I could play like that. Then I got one at last and realized it was harder than I’d imagined. After six months I realized it would take my whole life to play the way I wanted to, even if I did nothing but practice. After a year and a half I figured even that wouldn’t be long enough. I finally decided it was impossible, and that God was just torturing me with the dreams. I nearly killed myself, it hurt so much. Sam is the only reason I didn’t. Then we heard about you, and I thought…I’m almost afraid to hope.”

“Where was your mother in all this,” I asked when she fell silent.

“She left.” Her face was masked. “When I was ten.”

I digested that without expression.

“What made you think of selling your soul?”

“I thought of it a long time ago, actually, but I didn’t really believe it was possible. I also had no idea how to do it. It’s not exactly the sort of thing you advertise for.”

My head was swimming. I glanced down at the tea in my hands. It was cold.

“Even if you did, there would be no quick fix. You would still have to practice, live in the world, pay bills, deal with your father.”

Juliana tossed her head impatiently.

“I know…But I want this.”

“It’s your soul, girl! Can’t you think of anything less drastic?”

“I came to you for help, sir. Are you going to help me, or are you going to try and talk me out of it?”

There was steel in those hazel eyes. I saw suddenly why it was Sam loved her.

“I just want you to know what you are getting into. Otherwise there can be no bargain.”

“I know what I am getting into.”

“Are you certain?”

She glared back defiantly. I swirled my cold tea.

“You, Juliana Spring, want to sell your soul to me in exchange for the chance to play the music you hear in your dreams, here on earth, alive, and to be the best harpist in the world?”

“Yes.”

“Are you willing to do whatever I deem necessary to make that happen, however difficult or painful it happens to be, to live your life by my word so far as regards the playing of the harp?”

“I am.”

“And do you undertake this obligation freely, without mental reservations, and in full knowledge of the consequences?”

She bit her lip.

“I do.”

“Then give me your hands and open your mind to me. Close your eyes when you are ready.”

I leaned forward and took her long white hands in mine. I wondered suddenly if anyone was listening. Her eyes closed, and I spoke a very few, swift, syllabant words. Her hands clenched in mine. Her eyes flickered open. Juliana Spring shuddered.

“Is that it?” She gasped.

“That is it.”

Juliana shifted her eyes cautiously about the cafe her gaze darting to the diners, the window, the sky, the trees outside, and me. There was a peculiar intensity to her study, as though she had never seen a world like this before. She flexed her long boned fingers, fascinated by their supple movement.

“What happens now?” She asked me.

“Go back to Sam and get some sleep. Tomorrow morning at ten meet me in the park behind campus, on the bench beneath the bur oaks. Bring your harp.” She nodded.

“What about…What about my soul?”

“Do not worry about it,” I smiled gently. “That is my concern now.” I stood, smiling down at her trembling eyes. There was a light in them that I had not observed before. I wondered what she was thinking.

“Lunch is on me,” I said.

The Celtic lands are known for possessing 300 shades of green vegetation over rolling hills and mountains, but we forget that most Celts lived less than 3 miles from the barren rocky shores of sea. Only that they weren't so barren once you went below the water. There was plenty of seaweed, which is not actually a plant. And it has played an important role in the history of the Celts.

Kelp is actually a brown algae, the king of the algae world, producing the largest collective body of single-celled organisms; which is why it is often confusedly referred to as a plant. Its scientific name is Phaeophyta. There are about one hundred kelp species in the world and kelp can live for up to fourteen years. New blades of kelp are produced every year. These plants are simply phenomenal growers. Harvesting kelp is like cutting grass--it grows back VERY quickly. In the right conditions, these plants can grow up to 18 to 24 inches a day! Bull kelp can grow 10-20 meters in as little time as four months. It grows to the surface on a "stipe," and branches out into "fronds" and is buoyed by an air bladder shaped like a light bulb, called pneumatocysts, and may form very dense surface canopies than can stop up to 99% of the surface light from reaching the base (called a "holdfast".)

During the spring and summer, new kelp blades grow towards the sunlight. The new blades are not occupied by colonists (snails, fish, etc.) yet. Later, when the blades become older, they will be literally covered with these animals. In late spring, microscopic larvae from the animals that inhabit kelp forests attach to the blades. In mid-summer, the turban snail population rises in the fronds. Small schools of fish and animals search for food in the Kelp forest. Through all of spring and summer, harbor seals and sea otters raise their young in the forests in California, and seals also hunt there in the Celtic lands also. In the fall, warm water from offshore flows into the forest. Kelp grows at a slower rate because nutrients in the water begin to be depleted. In the winter, seaweed weakens. Old blades decay and are torn from holdfasts and stipes. Storm waves tear away blades of the kelp, littering the ocean floor, where it decays, and becomes a source of food for bottom ocean dwellers; or it washes up on the shore to be collected by humans.

To reproduce, adult kelp releases spores. The spores swim to the ocean bottom and grow into tiny male and female plants which are called gameotophytes. The male releases its sperm to fertilize the female's eggs and the embryos grow into kelp plants also known as sporophytes. The sporophytes grow into adult kelp plants and these in turn release more spores. The cycle is completed in one year. Kelp grows well on rocky bottoms. The plants need a lot of light and enough water motion to keep nutrients flowing around the plant. They usually grow in water 20-80 feet deep but some forests grow at depths as great as 130 feet--sometimes even deeper. Kelp competes with small animals and plants for space on the ocean floor. When the kelp becomes older and taller, it competes with other kelp plants for sunlight. The deeper the ocean bottom, the farther the kelp columns grow from eachother.

In Gàidhlig it is known as "dúlamán", and I included a song at the end of this article by that name. In Scotland there are five types of Kelp. Oarweed and Tangleweed grows higher on the shore, and is left on the rocks during low tide; resembling fingers about two meters long. Cuvie grows closer to the low-tide line and is rarely uncovered, growing to three meters. Dabberlocks is a long narrow kelp, but much thinner. Sugar Kelp is found in bays and sea loch, away from the waves. The stipe is short with long fronds. Furbellows is rare and not described.

Jellyfish float through the forest, and the thick canopy of the forest slows the flow of water. The most common inverterbrates found in Kelp are polychaetes, amphipods, lobsters, squids, octopi and ophiuroids. Outside the holdfasts; sponges, tunicates, anemones, cup corals and bryozoans are probably the most commonly occurring fixed animals within kelp forests. Birds associated with drift kelp, like phalaropes, feed on the associated plankton and larvae. The kelp wrack provides an important food source and habitat for kelp flies, maggots and small crustaceans on which several species of shore birds, starlings, common crows, black phoebes and warblers feed on it.

In modern times, kelp is painfully associated with the Highland Clearances of the 18th and 19th Century when landlords and chiefs sold clan lands, introduced sheep grazing, and relocated villages to the shore-line into individual croft-homes. Kelp was one of the few high profit industries for the impoverished Highlanders. Whiskey production was only possible for those with sufficient capital. Kelp burning seems to have been introduced into some of the lowland parts of the Scottish coast early in the eighteenth century, but was not thoroughly established in the Highlands until about the year 1750. Kelp contain salts, potash, and chiefly soda, used in some of the manufactures, as soap, alum, glass, etc. It can be used as a substitute for barilla. The weeds are cut from the rocks with a hook, or collected on the shore, and then dried on the beach. They are afterwards burnt in a kiln or in long trenches, constantly stirred with an iron rake until they reach a gooey state; and when they cool, the ashes become condensed into a dark blue or whitish-colored rocky mass. The manufacture was carried on in the summer during June, July, and August.

After several famines in the 18th Century and the collapse of the Kelp market following the Napoleonic Wars, many of the remaining clansmen emigrated to America or Australia. The potato blight in 1835 and 1845 also devastated the remaining populations. WWI, in some parts of the Islands and Highlands, afforded occupation to considerable numbers of Highlanders. Iodine was extracted until the 1930s. Kelp was later harvested as a source of potash for making gunpowder during World War I (Frey 1971, Tarpley 1992) but currently the emphasis is on the production of algin, which serves as an emulsifying and binding agent in food (ketchup, ice cream, lipstick, beer) and pharmaceutical products (such as coatings to prevent infections) and food for use in abalone farms, and sometimes by humans due to its high vitamin and mineral contents. Oarweed can be boiled and served with pepper, butter and vinegar. Sugar kelp is rather sweet.

At first it was of little importance, but it gradually spread until it became universal over all the western islands and coasts, and the value of the article, from the causes above-mentioned, rose rapidly from about £1 per ton, when first introduced, to from £20 per ton about the beginning of the nineteenth century. While the great value of the article lasted, rents rose enormously, and the income of proprietors of kelp-shore rose in proportion. Throughout the kelp season, people spent the whole day occupied in its manufacture, and the wages they received, while it added to their scanty income, and increased their comfort, it was small recompense in proportion to the time and labor it required, and a pittance compared to the market prices received by those to whom the kelp belonged. Moreover, while the kelp-fever lasted, the cultivation of the ground and other agricultural matters seem to have been neglected and extravagant habits were developed by the proprietors. The consequence was that when the duties were taken off the articles, for which kelp was used as a substitute in the earlier part of the 19th century, the price of that article gradually diminished till it could fetch, about 1830-40, only from £2 to £4 a ton. With this fall in price, the incomes of the proprietors of kelp-shores also plummeted, landing many of them in ruin and bankruptcy, and leading many to sell their estates.

The manufacture is still carried on in the West Highlands and Islands, and to a greater extent in Orkney, but although it once occupied a considerable number of hands, it is now of comparatively little importance, much more of the sea-weed being employed as manure, as shown in the Irish movie, "The Field" about a crofter struggling to gain possession of a small piece of land in the 1920s. He would walk down a steep cliff path every morning, several times, to carry back this natural fertilizer to produce "lazy beds", a typ of soil on top of rocky ground to eke out an existence. While at the industries' peak, however, the manufacture of this article undoubtedly increased to a very large extent the revenue of the West Highlands, and gave employment to and kept at home a considerable number of people who otherwise might have emigrated. Indeed, it was partly on account of the need of many hands for kelp-making, that proprietors did all they could to prevent the emigration of those removed from the smaller farms, and coerced them to settle on the coast. Kelp was definitely a mixed blessing for the Highlanders.

There is remarkably few references available on the subject.

Kelpies are famous in the Highlands, and can be detected in human form because they are unable to keep their hair from appearing like seaweed, thus their name. They are sometimes called Each-Uisge (Ech-ooshk-ya, meaning "water horse") or Fuath (Foo-ah), and they are also part of northern Irish Fairy lore, suggesting their migration from Scotland. A Cornish Kelpie is called a Shoney, a name derived from the Norse name Sjofn, a Goddess of the Sea. In Iceland they are called Nickers, which are similar to the Nix, the water sprites of Germany. In the Shetland and Orkney Islands they are called Nuggies. Another name for the kelpie on the Isle of Man is the glashtyn. The glashtyn is described as a goblin which often rises out of the water and is similar in nature to the Manx brownie. Like all kelpies, the glashtyn appears as a horse--in this case, as a grey colt. It is often seen on the banks of lakes and appears only at night. In Ireland, a faerie known as the Phooka is also said to take the shape of a horse and induces children to mount him. He is then said to plunge with them over a precipice killing them. The Scottish kelpie is also attributed with similar feats. I wonder if there is a possible connection with the aquatic steeds of Manannan MacLir, Irish God of the oceans? Perhaps, the original story brought the heroes to the sub-aquatic kingdom of fairies. Another explanation, is that a lot of children slipped and fell off of cliffs or drowned while horsing around near the water; and somebody made up a story to pass the blame.

These reputedly voracious faeries once densely populated the North Sea and all the lochs of Scotland. Deer and humans who wandered too close to the lochs, were their favorite meals. In northern Scotland there are stories of Kelpies who appear as friendly seahorses and allow passing humans to mount them so that they may be drowned. Kelpies have limited shape-shifting powers and can appear as handsome young men to lure young girls to them. They were probably the forerunners of our current belief in the Loch Ness monster. Kelpies may be captured by placing a bridle over their heads, though it was a difficult and dangerous task due to the beasts strong and willful nature. However, if a person managed to accomplish this task, the kelpie was forced to serve the one who bridled it. Other tricks to unmask one, were pouring boiled water on one, striking it with a holy item, or tricking it to walk over a cross-road. The general advice, don't accept rides from strange horses.

Loch Pytoulish is a beautiful little lake, partly in Kincardiue and partly in Rothiemurchus. It is 674 feet above the sea, the same height as Loch Dallas, behind Kinchirdy. Its environment is rich in memories of the past. To the west is the Callart, a rocky height, which till lately was densely covered with larch. It stands now cold and bare. At the east end, near the march, is Lag-nan-Cuimcanath, where Shaw of Rothiemurchus, the captain of the clan in the combat at the Inch of Perth, 1392, waylaid a party of Cummings and slew them. The lonely remains of their graves may still be seen in the hollow. There is an island in the loch, which sometimes appears when the water is low. It is evidently artificial, and probably was used as a place of defense. Perhaps it had a crannog (island fort) and it may have been connected with the Stone Fort on the hill above (Creag Chaisteal). On the east side of the loch there is a well-defined terrace, with the remains of hut-circles and cairns. It is about 30 feet higher than the lake, and makes, with the surface of the water, as striking a parallel as the famous Roads of Glenroy. This terrace, which many mistake for a road, and others at a higher level (700, 800, 900), may be traced for miles on both sides of the Spey. It was in Loch Pytoulish that Colonel Thornton killed the monster pike, of which he gives so glowing an account in his book. With such a setting, it is not surprising that the loch was said to have been of old one of the haunts of the Water Kelpie.

Once upon a time, the Baron's heir and some other boys were playing by the loch side. One of them cried out with surprise, "Look, the pretty pony!" They went to see. It was a palfrey, gaily caparisoned, with saddle and bridle bright with silver and gems, feeding quietly in the meadow. The boys tried to get hold of it, but could not. They were allowed to come close, and then, with a toss of its head, it was off. Thus frolicking, they drew nearer and nearer to the loch. At last they caught it by the bridle, when, with a wild shriek, it rushed for the water. The lads struggled hard, but their hands were glued fast to the bridle, and they could not loose them. But the Baron's son, who had his right hand free, drew his dirk and gashed at his fingers until he gained release. He alone escaped; the other's perished in the waters.