Book of Days

If you’ve been reading the Convivio Book of Days for some time, you’ve probably figured out by now that it’s the odder days and celebrations that capture my attention most, and tonight’s setting sun brings one of them: St. Mark’s Eve, a night for divination, mostly of the romantic sort, but of other types, too.

With St. Mark’s Day, tomorrow, the 25th of April, we reach a day that sets us firmly on the path toward summer, with blessings uttered upon the newly sown crops. It is a day associated traditionally with the return of migratory birds to northern climes; the cuckoo especially in Europe. In traditional reckoning of time, summer is near indeed: we’ll be celebrating it fully come May Day on the First of May, which is next Sunday, with May poles and songs like “Sumer is Icumen In.” You might think of St. Mark’s Day as summer’s harbinger.

Just as the seasons are viewed differently in traditional reckoning of time, so are the days. Days were traditionally reckoned to end with the setting sun, and still to this day it is the eves of holidays––the night before––that often receive the greater stature. Think of Halloween, the Eve of All Hallows. Or Christmas Eve, with its Midnight Mass, and Holy Saturday, with its Vigil Mass for Easter, celebrated only once the sun has set. These are all remnants of this traditional reckoning of time that so often gets mention here in this book of days.

And so it goes as well with St. Mark’s Day, and tonight, the 24th of April, brings St. Mark’s Eve, a night long set aside as one for divining the future. Romantic futures, especially, and here is perhaps the most common of divination spells for St. Mark’s Eve: Fast from sunset and during the night, bake a cake that contains an eggshellfull of salt, wheat meal, and barley meal. Once the cake is baked, set it to cool on the table and leave the door to your home open. Sometime over the course of the night your future love will come in and turn the cake. As you might imagine, this goes back to a time when we were not apt to lock our doors; I imagine this spell has been thwarted in modern times by locks and security systems and perchance by pepper spray, too.

But perhaps your curiosities run more macabre? Very well; we have a St. Mark’s Eve spell for you, too. The only problem is you will need to begin now for a divination event that will occur three years from tonight. For this and for the next two St. Mark’s Eves you’ll need to fast and then spend the hours between 11 PM and 1 AM sitting on the porch of a church. Come the third year, in that witching hour, you should see a procession pass before you of the shadows of all who will die in the coming year, as this excerpt from a poem by James Montgomery suggests:

‘Tis now, replied the village belle,
St. Mark’s mysterious eve,
And all that old traditions tell
I tremblingly believe;
How, when the midnight signal tolls,
Along the churchyard green,
A mournful train of sentenced souls
In winding-sheets are seen.
The ghosts of all whom death shall doom
Within the coming year,
In pale procession walk the gloom,
Amid the silence drear.

The poem is titled “The Vigil of St. Mark.” But back to matters of the heart: Just as at Halloween, there is as well a long standing tradition of divination by nuts on St. Mark’s Eve. Young women would set a row of nuts on the hot embers of the hearth, one for each girl. Each would breathe the name of her intended into the hearth and if the love was to be true, the nut would jump away as it got hotter. But if the nut sat there and was consumed by the fire, the love was not meant to be:

If you love me, pop and fly,
If not, lie there silently.

What will the future bring? If you must know, then perhaps St. Mark’s Eve is the night you’ve been waiting for. Peering into my crystal ball, though, I can already tell you: Summer is a’comin’ in. It won’t be long now. The birds have been calling to us to let us know.

Image: “The Crystal Ball” by John William Waterhouse. Oil on canvas, 1902 [Public domain] via Wikimedia Commons. Oddly enough, while we do have a photograph, the actual location of this painting appears to be not known. If only we had a crystal ball.

You’ve not heard much from me these past few weeks, have you? Not much going in the realm of seasonal celebrations, not since Easter began. My theory on this is that in our agrarian past, when all this seasonal celebrating began, this was far too busy a time to be celebrating. There were newborn farm animals to tend to, and land to prepare for planting.

But despite the fact that it snowed in parts of the Northeast a day or two ago, summer is a’comin’ in. In fact, by traditional reckoning of time, it arrives very soon, on the First of May, which I know is different from what the almanac tells us. But it is traditional reckoning of time that most concerns us here at the Book of Days.

St. Mark’s Eve, tonight, sort of gets the ball rolling toward summer. It’s a night mainly for divination. Here’s a reprint of last year’s chapter on St. Mark’s Eve. I’m not sure I can improve upon it. And perhaps I don’t have time, too, either… after all this time without writing to you, St. Mark’s Eve completely snuck up on me!
–– John

As we approach the last week of April, we come to St. Mark’s Day on the 25th, and, as with most holidays, its more important eve the night before. This practice comes to us from the traditional reckoning of time and the practice of experiencing days from sunset to sunset… which, when you think about it, is somewhat more practical than the random Stroke of Midnight beginning we follow nowadays. More practical and more natural, attuned to the natural rhythms of day and night.

And so with the setting sun on the 24th we have St. Mark’s Eve, set aside as one of the traditional nights for divining the future. This is especially true for matters of the heart. One of the most common divination spells is as follows: Fast from sunset on St. Mark’s Eve and during the night, bake a cake that contains an eggshellfull of salt, wheat meal, and barley meal. Set the baked cake to cool on the table and leave the door to your home open. Sometime over the course of the night your future love will come in and turn the cake.

Certainly a spell like this harkens back to simpler times, when we were less in need of locking our doors at night, let alone leaving them open. Personally, I’d go with the security of a locked door and just wait to meet my future love in a more public place.

Others use the Eve of St. Mark to foresee the shadows of all in the village who would be buried in the churchyard in the coming year. Great fun, of course! This requires some planning ahead, however, as the spell needs three years to work. For each of three St. Mark’s Eves in a row you’ll need to fast and then spend the hours between 11 PM and 1 AM sitting on the porch of a church. Come the third year, in that witching hour, you should see a procession pass before you of the shadows of all who will die in the coming year, as this excerpt from a poem by James Montgomery suggests:

‘Tis now, replied the village belle,
St. Mark’s mysterious eve,
And all that old traditions tell
I tremblingly believe;
How, when the midnight signal tolls,
Along the churchyard green,
A mournful train of sentenced souls
In winding-sheets are seen.
The ghosts of all whom death shall doom
Within the coming year,
In pale procession walk the gloom,
Amid the silence drear.

The poem is titled “The Vigil of St. Mark.” But back to matters of the heart: Just as at Halloween, there is as well a long standing tradition of divination by nuts on St. Mark’s Eve. Young women would set a row of nuts on the hot embers of the hearth, one for each girl. Each would breathe the name of her intended into the hearth and if the love was to be true, the nut would jump away as it got hotter. But if the nut sat there and was consumed by the fire, the love was not meant to be:

If you love me, pop and fly,
If not, lie there silently.

The morning brings St. Mark’s Day, with blessings upon the newly sown crops. Summer will soon be returning (in fact, it’s right around the corner, again by traditional reckoning of time: May Day is drawing near). With summer comes the arrival of migratory birds to northern climes, and birds are an important part of the festivity of St. Mark’s Day: Cuckoos, in particular, and in England, the cuckoo is also known as St. Mark’s Gowk. The blessings upon the crops go back to a much earlier celebration of late April: the Ancient Roman festival of Robigalia, celebrated to appease the mildew spirit and to keep those newly sown crops healthy and thriving.

Image: An engraving of divination by nuts taken from the Chambers Bros. Book of Days, Edinburgh, 1869.

As we approach the last week of April, we come to St. Mark’s Day on the 25th, and, as with most holidays, its more important eve the night before. This practice comes to us from the traditional reckoning of time and the practice of experiencing days from sunset to sunset… which, when you think about it, is somewhat more practical than the random Stroke of Midnight beginning we follow nowadays. More practical and more natural, attuned to the natural rhythms of day and night.

And so with the setting sun on the 24th we have St. Mark’s Eve, set aside as one of the traditional nights for divining the future. This is especially true for matters of the heart. One of the most common divination spells is as follows: Fast from sunset on St. Mark’s Eve and during the night, bake a cake that contains an eggshellfull of salt, wheat meal, and barley meal. Set the baked cake to cool on the table and leave the door to your home open. Sometime over the course of the night your future love will come in and turn the cake.

Certainly a spell like this harkens back to simpler times, when we were less in need of locking our doors at night, let alone leaving them open. Personally, I’d go with the security of a locked door and just wait to meet my future love in a more public place.

Others use the Eve of St. Mark to foresee the shadows of all in the village who would be buried in the churchyard in the coming year. Great fun, of course! This requires some planning ahead, however, as the spell needs three years to work. For each of three St. Mark’s Eves in a row you’ll need to fast and then spend the hours between 11 PM and 1 AM sitting on the porch of a church. Come the third year, in that witching hour, you should see a procession pass before you of the shadows of all who will die in the coming year, as this excerpt from a poem by James Montgomery suggests:

‘Tis now, replied the village belle,
St. Mark’s mysterious eve,
And all that old traditions tell
I tremblingly believe;
How, when the midnight signal tolls,
Along the churchyard green,
A mournful train of sentenced souls
In winding-sheets are seen.
The ghosts of all whom death shall doom
Within the coming year,
In pale procession walk the gloom,
Amid the silence drear.

The poem is titled “The Vigil of St. Mark.” But back to matters of the heart: Just as at Halloween, there is as well a long standing tradition of divination by nuts on St. Mark’s Eve. Young women would set a row of nuts on the hot embers of the hearth, one for each girl. Each would breathe the name of her intended into the hearth and if the love was to be true, the nut would jump away as it got hotter. But if the nut sat there and was consumed by the fire, the love was not meant to be:

If you love me, pop and fly,
If not, lie there silently.

The morning brings St. Mark’s Day, with blessings upon the newly sown crops. Summer will soon be returning (in fact, it’s right around the corner, again by traditional reckoning of time: May Day is drawing near). With summer comes the arrival of migratory birds to northern climes, and birds are an important part of the festivity of St. Mark’s Day: Cuckoos, in particular, and in England, the cuckoo is also known as St. Mark’s Gowk. The blessings upon the crops go back to a much earlier celebration of late April: the Ancient Roman festival of Robigalia, celebrated to appease the mildew spirit and to keep those newly sown crops healthy and thriving.

Image: An engraving of divination by nuts taken from the Chambers Bros. Book of Days, Edinburgh, 1869.