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Daily Record
01-05-2025
- General
- Daily Record
The history of Scotland's fire festival Beltane as Scots celebrate start of summer
May 1 marks an ancient Gaelic festival that celebrates the start of summer with rituals and bonfires. Most of us will recognise the beginning of June as the start of the summer. But centuries ago, Scotland actually celebrated the new season on May 1, with an ancient festival that marked the end of spring. Beltane is a Gaelic festival that dates way back to the Iron Age, which was historically celebrated across Scotland, Ireland, and the Isle of Man. This ancient celebration is just one of four Gaelic festivals that signify the start of each new season—the others being Samhuinn on November 1, Imbolc on February 1, and Lughnasadh on August 1. Latha Bealltainn (which means Beltane in Scots Gaelic), is believed to translate to 'bright fire'. Traditionally, the festival ushered in the start of the pastoral summer season, during which time livestock was moved to summer pastures. Due to the fact that crops and livestock such as cattle were so important during this time, ancient societies would carry out rituals at Beltane in order to protect them from natural- or supernatural- harm. These ritualistic practices usually featured fire, and were carried out to please spirits or fairies that were believed to possess significant power over the lands. Burning bonfires was one of the most notable rituals that took place during the festival of Beltane, which was done to commemorate the growing power of the sun in summer after long months of winter darkness. Flames, smoke, and ash were all thought to possess mystical protective properties, and the festival also saw both people and livestock moving around the fire, and in some cases even leaping over it. Another practice that was commonly carried out was the decorating of cattle horns with flowers to appease the fairies, and the offering of food or milk at trees where they were thought to live. Some communities also traditionally chose a virgin woman to be their 'May Queen', who would lead marches and songs at Beltane. A local man would also be selected as the 'Green Man', and the two would marry in a symbolic ceremony that represented fertility and rebirth as summer began. Nowadays, the festival of Beltane has been modernised and takes place on Edinburgh's Calton hill on the evening of April 30. It takes the form of a procession that starts at Edinburgh's National Monument. The modern version of this ancient festival involves acrobats, dancers, musicians, puppeteers, and of course, fire. The festival is an immersive and interactive experience, with no barriers between the audience and performers. Characters from the original celebration will make an appearance as the May Queen and the Green Man lead the procession. Performers are painted bright colours, while many of them appear semi-nude as they follow in the parade. Over the course of the festival, guests observe the death and rebirth of the Green Man in a symbolic ritual echoing the ancient festival, and signalling the beginning of summer. Join the Daily Record WhatsApp community! Get the latest news sent straight to your messages by joining our WhatsApp community today. You'll receive daily updates on breaking news as well as the top headlines across Scotland. No one will be able to see who is signed up and no one can send messages except the Daily Record team. All you have to do is click here if you're on mobile, select 'Join Community' and you're in! If you're on a desktop, simply scan the QR code above with your phone and click 'Join Community'. We also treat our community members to special offers, promotions, and adverts from us and our partners. If you don't like our community, you can check out any time you like. To leave our community click on the name at the top of your screen and choose 'exit group'.
The Guardian
25-02-2025
- The Guardian
Country diary: This spring gives so much life, today we give something back
It seems to be precisely when February's sleet and muck threaten to become unbearable that the aeons-old conversation between celestial and terrestrial turns to growth and greening. We're now past the pagan quarter festival of Imbolc, which honours a goddess of many guises. Of particular relevance here, in the iron age territory of the Brigantes, she was Brigantia. Of her other guises, the foremost was the Celtic Brighid, goddess of springs, of healing and farming, or poetry wisdom and smithing – the stuff of creation. We pay a family visit to Lady's Spring Wood in nearby Malton, named for the water that rises alongside the Yorkshire Derwent. Small channels spill in braided rivulets, their clarity a startling contrast to the murky flow of the river. It's a place that is triple blessed, by topography, geology and hydrology, with elevated ground for security, river clay for pottery, a floodplain for farming, and before that for hunting and gathering, the river for transit and, principally, the springs for life. There's no doubt that the springs' situation so close to a natural fording place is the reason the town exists. There was once a castle here, and before that a Roman fort, Derventio Brigantum, named for the river, the people and the goddess whose land they occupied. So here is a right and proper place to mark the season. The main spring has a substantial pool, its surface disrupted by the concentric ripples of several upwellings. You have to come early to find it clear enough to drink, as it's a favourite splash spot for local dogs. The joy in their games is undeniable, but I imagine a future where alternative provision for canine fun can be made nearby and the spring left in peace. Meanwhile, it's not going anywhere and there are other things we can do to honour it. Today, instead of leaving Imbolc offerings, we take stuff away: poo bags in a range of hues, drink bottles in the usual livery of strident azure (Lucozade Sport), carmine (Coke Zero) and imperial purple (Ribena), and crushed beer cans. It all seems recently discarded – we're not the only ones picking up. Call it love, community spirit, reverence, it's all much same, and a little goes a long way. Under the Changing Skies: The Best of the Guardian's Country Diary, 2018-2024 is published by Guardian Faber; order at and get a 15% discount
The Guardian
07-02-2025
- General
- The Guardian
Country diary: Rituals and redwings in a hedgerow communion
Sunday afternoon, early February, and we have gathered between the churchyard of St Andrew's in Bredwardine and the River Wye to mark time. We are here to celebrate St Brigid's Day and Imbolc (the first day of Gaelic spring; the term means 'ewe's milk'), healing and fertility, with meditation and a hedgerow communion. In the sun and the warming air we walk in silence to the old fish ponds and the ancient settlement. I have walked this way many times, often in winter, past the chestnuts, naked and stark against the grey sky, and out into the opening backed by oak trees leaning down to the river. Out of the silence, I hear the 'tseep-tseep' of a solitary redwing amid the 'chack-chack' of fieldfares. I catch a glimpse of its quizzical eye and cream eyebrow; the mottled, lynx-like feathers and the red flash. A split second of connection lifts the soul out of self-consciousness. The redwing reminds me of last year, when, on this same day, in a ritual act of deep memory, we took red ribbons – called 'brat bríde' – that mirror the redwing's flank, to catch the morning dew from the blades of grass. St Brigid is supposed to visit on the eve of 1 February and imbue the dew with protection and healing. We took the ribbons away and placed them in our homes to keep us from harm in the year ahead. Soon, as the swallows start arriving, the redwings will return to the forests of Siberia. Like St Brigid, they fly by night for protection against predators. This year, we would have repeated the ribbon ritual, only the number of attenders – about 60 – was too large to make it possible. Our other hedgerow communions, at Lammas and winter solstice, are similarly popular. But there are other things we can do to mark the day: we welcome the four cardinal points, from the Latin cardo, meaning 'axis', and we share the bread and wine as we move in expectation towards the April resurrection, the light and the lengthening of days. Beneath our feet, a mantle of snowdrops leans towards the pale sun in the west, and someone reads the poem Face to Face by Tomas Tranströmer, which ends with the words: 'The earth and I sprang toward each other.' Under the Changing Skies: The Best of the Guardian's Country Diary, 2018-2024 is published by Guardian Faber; order at and get a 15% discount
