The Season of Samhain

On butternut squash, ice baths and Folktale Week

Digital illustration by Yvie Johnson in wide rectangle with a bright purple border. The illustration is a section of a larger illustration. A Full Moon is rising behind pine trees, mist shrouds the pine trees, stars are scattered across the sky. The sky is a mixture of blues, pinks, and purples with specks of yellow. A distressed look. In the top right corner is the text which reads: The Season of Samhain in light colour on a striped paint of pinks and oranges.

In the northern hemisphere, just by taking a look outside your window is enough to currently remind you that we are in a season that is preparing for its death.

Goldier is a word

That’s to say, the trees’ leaves are turning from green to gold to goldier and, if we’re lucky, that time for turning will be a variety of hues from pale ochre to amber to deep red. The ground is becoming a multi-layered blanket for children to bury into, for foliage to decorate, a mélange reminiscent of my attempts to bake a uniquely wonderful cake as a child, and for humans to contemplate whether there’s some discarded litter hiding. And find their hiding children. Or other things hidden, less desirable. Rarely, do we find treasure. At least, I haven’t ever found treasure kicking up leaves.

My favourite part of the leaf colour-changing spectacle is finding the pinked-up purples and the blushingly bright reds that are as vibrant and deeply saturated as a slice of freshly cut beetroot or a basket of radishes. I recently learnt, somewhere, that the colours that eventually come out are related to the chemicals already existing within the leaf; this is the colour potential it always carries.

Portrait full colour photograph taken by Yvie Johnson of a harvest of garden vegetables laid flat on a wooden crate. From left to right there are two and a half bright pink sweet potatoes. One pinky red rainbow beetroot with long stems and green leaves. One orange rainbow beetroot with long stems and green leaves.

Personally, it’s my favourite time of year, in part because even if our flowers fail to bloom as readily as I’d hope, I’m always guaranteed an autumnal spectacle of colours. Also because my body simply prefers fresher air, sunlight without the weight of light on my eyes, and feeling as if I’ve not missed too much of the day if I get up not long after sunrise as opposed to missing sunrise by hours.

Fruit as well as veggies

This season is already bearing creative fruit for me. I gave my first professional online tutorial, live on the Zoom, no less, to an Adobe User Group based out of Florida. I’m now an Adobe Community Expert and I use Adobe Fresco and Adobe Express to make my illustrations and my social media content.1 Although, ironically, as I write this I am preparing to get into my first ice bath since 2017, and the thought of holding the juxtaposition of a hot climate of Florida and the impending ice bath in my mind at the same time is, as my son likes to say, discombobulating.

This little ditty video above shows the illustration I created for the tutorial. It is a recreation of the Welsh folktale of Yr Hwch Ddu Gwta, the Black Tail-less Sow, in honour of Calan Gaeaf, meaning the first day of winter (in Welsh) which takes place on 1st November (incidentally the same day I gave my very professional zoom talk). Instead of carved pumpkins, here we have carved turnips and swedes, the Bwgan Rwdan (Turnip Ghouls).2

Learning Welsh and Welsh traditions is not easy, but it is accessible thanks to books (in English) that share the stories and traditions with Welsh language applied where necessary. My favourite reference for this project was “Welsh Witchcraft” by Mhara Starling.

Calan Gaeaf, and the evening prior being Nos Galen Gaeaf (Winter’s Eve), is specific to Wales and the northern hemisphere. I referenced this in my very first Substack offering which you can read here (or simply click on the spooky pumpkins below).



Friends of Samhain

Other iterations are known as Halloween followed by All Saints Day, or Samhain followed by Day of the Dead. The name this particular date in the calendar is referred to determines which culture or tradition one is more or less likely to be associated with, or know about. But I wonder how many Welsh families still know about the folklore of Nos Galan Gaeaf, or the ancestral honouring and feasts associated with Calan Gaeaf, more than, say, Halloween parties and trick or treating around the houses followed up with a sugar hangover and piles of sweet wrappers.

What does it mean to honour one’s ancestors when historically ancestors may only have come up in conversation if a child dared/knew/remembered to ask, or someone in the family was a keen amateur genealogist. (I fit both of these categories but I certainly didn’t ask enough questions when my grandparents were still alive.)

I first learned about Calan Gaeaf in 2022 as I was researching ideas for Folktale Week, the creative week on Instagram for just that —a week of folktales interpreted in our very own way through a series of images using prompts given by the founders and hosts.

This is my favourite Instagram week of the year.

I don’t get to be as fully involved as I’d like due to the quick turnaround needed; from the time the prompts are released, for fresh images matching the prompts to be ideated and conceived, and my preponderance for intricate, detailed, well-researched illustrations fitting something that I’m just learning on the fly. Also, I’ve only ever wanted to recount tales from the Mabinogion or of Welsh folktales from around the world. Researching both requires a good amount of time.

Previous attempts of mine to contribute to the mass of wonderful, colourful and magical artwork for Folktale Week on Instagram can be found here, here and here. Also, here’s a little gallery of my folktale-inspired illustrations.

Comments

Leave a Reply

Discover more from Yvie Johnson

Subscribe now to keep reading and get access to the full archive.

Continue reading