Bucca Dhu and the Wintertide

As true with my previous post about Ankow, this contains a lot of UPG from my own personal workings and worship of the Bucca. For some interesting reading, Gemma Gary has the most easily accessible books on Them (though I personally disagree with the assigning of masculine titles & traits exclusively). I'll also note my other issue with a title assigned to Them by Gary - "Bucca Gam". I don't know the origin of 'Gam' as a title (but I'm certainly trying to find out), but it translates in kernewek to hunted game. Which doesn't seem fitting in my opinion, but as the post is going to be specifically about Dhu and Their aspects, it shouldn't come up!

I'll start with a shared view between myself and Gary's work that features a chapter entirely on the Bucca - Traditional Witchcraft: A Cornish Book of Ways.

As storms come rolling in across the land, it is said that Bucca Dhu is riding. On the dark and cold nights of winter, Bucca Dhu is also described as riding a great black horse with blazing red eyes and smoky breath. Such lore surrounding Bucca Dhu is cognate with the widespread folk traditions of the Devil and Odin/Woden, as leaders of the wild hunt, which in British tradition runs along the Abbot's Way towards Cornwall; the last stop en route to the Otherworld. (Page 79)

Bucca Dhu is the storm god associated with the winter months, the inner words, introspection, dark and defensive magic and the new moon. Bucca Dhu is seen to rule from Allantide to May's eve. Both Bucca Gwidder and Bucca Dhu however are associated traditionally with mischief and unpredictability (reminiscent rather of Cornwall's remarkable and famously changeable weather. This may be seen as something of a paradox hen considering Bucca Dhu's introspective association, however introspection can take us to the deeper animalistic parts of our being. (Page 83)

 While personally I do not use Christianity or Christian parts of Cornish folk magic within my craft, and do not equate the Bucca Dhu to literally be the devil/masculine evil/witchfather (in part because I still hold spite over Methodism and Victorian sensibilities trying to 'domesticate' the Cornish - note I do celebrate some holidays that are Traditional to Cornwall that have been Christianised), there are certainly wider folkloric links between the two!

Bucca Dhu, within my practice, holds the role and titles of Androgyne Destroyer, Master of the Wintertide, Mother of Storms and Chief of Beasts (in contrast, Bucca Gwidder is the Fair Creatrix, Mistress of Summertide, Father of the Calm seas and King of the Land). I invoke Them specifically during the Wintertide to give Gwidder Their respite, and outside of that I invoke for matters of undoing, binding, emotional wellbeing and blasting (baneful magic). They are also my guide for shadow work as a matter of introspection and hold power over the solemnity of ancestor worship (Gwidder, meanwhile, is full of the joys of Spring in ancestral worship, festivals, outward workings, etc). 

To list their domains outside of their weather and animal responsibilities, I also include transformation and ritual purification in the terms of inward rites, periods of liminality, home and hearth, communication, visual arts (as opposed to Gwidder, who holds more power over written arts). They also bless the Apple Trees during Wassail and guide any rites or workings preformed over the festival period comprising of Nadelik, Candlemas, Nickanan Night up to Shrovetide. They also, in my experience, are wonderful to invoke for rights that involve Annown (though Gwidder is also wonderful for this - I'd separate them by Dhu is wonderful for Annown workings that involve introspection/answer seeking and Gwidder is perfect for Annown workings that are more about reaching out and communing). 

A more general writing about Bucca - in my own views and customs They are such uniquely Cornish deity. Unlike the Hellenic/Theoi Pantheon (which I also venerate) they are so much more local and concentrated down to just the county, it's an intense feeling to work with them...especially on ancestral burial lands. I've noted that They still hold some power in Devonshire lands, mostly the moors, but during a cross-country trip their absence was sorely felt all the way through until Scotland. I am going with the theory that the Bucca simply refuses to inhabit lands held by the English - Scotland is a fellow celtic nation with wild lands and old gods, so perhaps They felt more keen to be felt where Their nature is already understood. I can't speak to Their influence outside of Cornwall in the overseas sense - I don't tend to travel much in these covid times.

I do feel a great deal of affection for the Bucca, both combined and separated into Dhu and Gwidder. They are intimately involved with my life and it's a special gift to be given. I hold a physical piece imbued with Their energies, a hagstone on green thread (green, of course, for the powers of the land and physicality. It's also imbued with sprowl from multiple long walks across the sacred landscape.) 

Death and Her customs!

This will contain descriptions of both UPG in the form of Ankow and writings about Her, and general mentions of death and funeral customs. Proceed with these in mind!

Starting out with Ankow - a figure mentioned in passing as the embodiment of death with analogous figures sharing a root in both Breizh/Brittany (Ankou) and Cymru/Welsh (Angau). Ankow is variously described as a classic "Grim Reaper", a figure with a cloak and hat that conceals Their face, an elderly woman or simply a shadow. In my own personal experiences with Ankow and revering Her as the eventual end to all things, I've only connected with the image of an elderly woman but, as true of any deity, She is likely to appear however She feels fits. 

Similarly, there are descriptions of Ankow as a masculine figure! They can all be simultaneously true (as with the Bucca, though that is much more 'literal' as the divine androgyne), but for the purposes of this article I'm going to refer to Ankow with She/Her (else I'll confuse myself too). Ankow as a bringer of death has never rung true in my experience, just as a hospice nurse doesn't kill their charge. Ankow cares for and guides someone through the veil, to Nevek, without being the cause of their death or 'stealing' them away. Ankow comes with a cart and a mare pulling it to escort someone through, coming with a smile and gentle hands. Her role and typing as a 'hag' is true in the sense of being an older woman with vast knowledge. I have found Her to be grandmotherly, never rushing ahead of Herself but never lagging in her tasks. 

Ankow is generally not a deity or figure to be prayed too outside of a death in the family or community, but Her role also bestows Her with rule of transformations and purification. As such I have called for her help in ritual purification ceremonies and kept Her as a figure in thought for rites of passage. I would hesitate to invoke, or advise anyone else to, invoke her as I'm sure that the figure of death has better things to do with Her time than attend to the living (besides, a lot of aspects that'd require her invoking are present in the much more happy to oblige Bucca).

Cornish death customs are largely lost to history or merged into English practice (partly as a result of Christianity). In a general pre-historic "death in Cornwall" sense, there are barrows and ancient neolithic burials scattered across the county (particularly in Penwith) that have been rich with archeological evidence. Of particular note (because I've been there) is Bosiliack Barrow - aligned with the Winter Solstice sunrise & with offerings of topsoil within the sealed tomb it's highly likely both have ritual significance. It has a lot of ancestral spirits, and I go slightly more indepth here.

Speeding through time to the 1800s, death in Cornwall was a community affair. The community in this sense far exceeded the immediate community - it encompassed many miles around as written in a newspaper article from the 1890s [source].

Perhaps there is no event among these people more illustrative of character, traits ami the peculiar cherishing of mournful customs than the Cornish funeral. No work is done for half a score of miles roundabout, on funeral days. All festive or political occasions fail to draw together such Cornish crowds as the burial of the lowliest man or woman of Cornwall. The assemblages never number loss than many hundreds, and usually comprise many thousands of "Cousin Jacks," as all Cornishmen are called, and all call each other; while the burial of a Cornish farmer, miner or fisherman will often attract far greater crowds than that of the greatest and noblest lord. To illustrate this singular outpouring on funeral occasions, in 1870 the body of a Praze miner who had emigrated to Colorado and had been accidentally killed in one of the mines of that State was brought back hero for buri al. The entire population of Cornwall is less than a half million souls, yet more than 100,000 Cornish folk attended this funeral.

The article goes on to detail that Cornish towns and hamlets generally had a carpenter and joiner and their apprentices as the undertaker and assistance. Their shop would contain "funeral tackle", everything necessary for the occasion, and that the role was generally inherited from father to son and so on. Naturally, any items or tools used in undertaking were considered both incredibly sacred and the object of many superstitions. An undertaker would make the coffin (colloquially a 'box') and because at the time (and still today) Cornwall is a poor county and as only the rich and noble could afford horses, the dead would be transported by the undertakers helpers as there was no small dread in coming into contact with the deceased or any item relating to them.

The coffin would be carried to the deceased in their home, taken through whatever entrance would fit it (but it could only go through feet first, any other way could bring another death onto the family). The deceased would have been part of the ceremony in a very specific (though separate) way - the relatives, neighbours, friends and anyone that knew them would come to the house, sit in the living space away from the body, drink and reminisce about both them and the various legends of their area. This was (and still is!) called watching the dead. The funeral ceremony is best summed up by the same article from earlier (corrections made to spelling my own)

Thousands of folk, all in black, gather to escort the dead and mourners. Here again the importance of the undertaker is observed. He has selected a voluntary choir from the crowd. He appoints the EIGHT "BIERERS" OR BEARERS. He brings two chairs from the house and sets them in the highway. The coffin is deposited on these. Then he arranges the "bierers" and the curious "coffin-tackle." This consists of two polished hectagon sticks, four feet long, and round at the ends; and four stout linen "napkins," two feet wide and three yards long. Two of those are passed through the rope handles, one at each coffin-end, knotted, and the sticks are passed through these knots, providing supporting handles for "bierers"— two at the head and two at the foot. Four other "bierers"—two on each side—assist in carrying the coffin, by passing two napkins - under the coffin, and the ends up through the side handles; for it should be remembered that the burden must literally be carried often for many miles, and never once set upon the ground, although, from another ancient custom, chairs will lie seen set outside every house along the funeral way. A dirge is sung while the mourners are being disponed in due order. Then the undertake reads the first two lines of that most lugubrious and solemn of all Wesleyan hymns

Where'er we po, where'er we be, Were' marc-lut- to the grave!— 

Which is the signal for wailing on the part of the mourners, weird and plaintive chanting by the choir, though no others are allowed to lift their voices, and for the slow and measured departure of the doleful cortege. All along the way the undertaker is proudly conducting his functions. He selects helpers who relieve the regular "bierers," though the latter must always be in their places when passing a village. And it would not be a Cornish funeral If be did not command the choir to sing "Where'er We Go," as every hamlet or little collection of houses was approached; if every person overtaken upon the way did not join the cortege and accompany it for some distance; if any one coming toward the procession did not instantly turn backward on its discovery; if the choir did not use its utmost powers as the parish church was finally reached; If the cortege failed to halt a respectful distance from the church door until the "passon" and sexton had made their appearance, wholly outside the entrance, to receive it; If all the women did not wail and weep during the entire service; if the "passon," sexton and undertaker were not paid for their services at the grave in "coin in the presence of the entire multitude; if hundreds of "Cousin Jacks" and "Cousin Jinnies " did not return to the bereaved home to participate In sympathetic reminiscence, saffron-cake, beer and liquor; and if the departed's "pairdnets" and cronies, including the undertaker with his "helpers" and "bierers," did not repair to the public house to indulge in toddy, boiled beer, or "shneagrum"— a Cornish drink ol beer, brandy, sugar and lemon— and during tlie eventful night ten thousand times praise their late comrade with the highest eulogy one Cornish man can bestow upon another: "All, Coden Jack's gone, you. Ah, cc knowed tin, did Coden Jack!" 

Cornish mourning is (and was) a loud affair with alcohol - as all good Cornish occasions are. In the current year and day, funeral care has been become very "samey" amongst white English and it's played no small part in the slow erosion of Cornish customs. There are multiple family-inherited undertakers fighting to bring the older ways back to the forefront, rightly arguing that the treatment of the passed on is intensely important part of culture. Below are some links to current Cornish funeral revivals, historic barrows, and anything else I thought interesting!

https://www.cornwalllive.com/news/cornwall-news/coronavirus-sparks-revival-old-funeral-4050368

https://www.historic-cornwall.org.uk/flyingpast/living.html

http://cornishstory.com/2020/10/08/sacred-places/

Superstitious and magical!

Second in four Allantide posts - the last was about divination!

Starting out with superstitions - the Cornish types aren't just reserved for October and Allantide, they go much deeper and span all kinds of professions and places. They also can get fairly gruesome, so full warnings ahead! 

The most common and well known (even taught to us in primary school!) is the miner's rule of throwing the crust of a pasty into the depths of the mines for the knockers. Like a lot of superstitions, this has a dual purpose of both practical and folkloric. The practical side - the crust of a Cornish pasty is the perfect way to hold it and in fact kept the miners from eating the harmful chemicals and grime their bare hands collected while deep in the earth, and tossing it away was the easiest disposal. The folkloric? Giving the knockers gifts of food kept the mines from collapsing and ensured everyone got to go home to their partners and children at the end of the day. Conversely, whistling in a mine would draw their ire and potentially cause a collapse! Whistling in mines is not so dissimilar from the St. Ives superstition of not whistling at night by the ocean, for fear of merfolk.

There’s two quite startling ones incoming, so count this as warning number 2!

One custom (that wasn’t entirely unique to Cornwall) is that the hand of a dead felon held magical properties, from healing to lighting up any kind of darkness. Another is that if a boat were to go looking for a lost fisherman, the vessel would stop over the top of their corpse despite the weather.

Some magic now - did you know that a specifically knotted string could call up a fierce wind? Or perhaps the custom of witch balls - glass fishing weights hung in the house to ward off ill magic or curses. Or, maybe, a famous Cornish pellar?

Thomasine Blight (locally known as Tammy Blee) was a Pellar* local to the Helston area of west cornwall. Known for her curse-breaking abilities, she was locally revered and people travelled far and wide for her treatments. Allegedly her husband, a mine engine driver, had similar gifts. 

Tammy's practice started out in Redruth, lifting curses from livestock and plying her trade in the service of small cures and charms for fisherfolk. While she was renowned for doing mostly good deeds, it’s not out of the question that when her husband fled she likely cursed him all the way! Even on her deathbed though, people brought to her for cures would magically rise with just an incantation from their stretchers.

She died on 6th October 1856, the year the painting was completed. 

*I hesitate to ascribe any kind of modern-terms like “white” witch, “black” witch, or even witch in general unless there’s no description of a practitioner from their time. Cornish witchcraft wasn’t divided as rigidly as the general witchcraft world is today, and it’s common that a cornish pellar, witch or any kind of practitioner would need to know how to curse and how to break curses, how to hurt and how to heal. 

Take an Allan Apple......Cornish divination during Allantide

For every Sunday leading up to Allantide I'm going to make every effort in the world to post a blog entry detailing some specific part of Cornish folk customs around the event! Today is the function of Allan Apples in divination, along with other fun divination methods!

An Allan Apple is any highly shined, big red apple. There's no requirements beyond that! They're easy to get hold of and their use is central to Allantide! Traditionally there were Allan Apple markets where people could go and buy their apples for the festival.

Before the discussions of apples and divination it's important to confirm what Allantide is! 

Allantide, also translated to Kalan Gwav (first day of winter), Nos Kalan Gwav (first eve of winter) or Dy' Halan Gwav (day of the first day of winter), is analogous to Hallowe'en or Hollantide of England and Cymru, or Samhain from Éire. As a result it's in-keeping with the themes of death, open gateways, divination and the dark of winter. More controversially (only because it divests the day and night of it's Christian attachments) it is also a festival of magic and charms. It's a particularly rich time for the appearance of ghosts, spirits and the Pobel Vean. Along with most Cornish festivals, fire and beacons are also very important.

Back to the apples - how to they factor into Allantide aside from the name? Divination...of course! The most important function of an Allan Apple was fortelling the users true love. They were generally given as gifts, so was a fairly easy affair. Older girls and young women would simply tuck the apple under the pillow during the night and sleep on it - that was enough to induce dreams of their future lover. Another more expansive use was to tell general fortune for the rest of winter, and even young children involved themselves in that. 

Gifts of Allan Apples also brought luck to the receiver even if their divinatory use wasn't fulfilled! 

Along with the apples, young hopefuls would throw molten lead or other metals into cold water and divine their future lovers occupation from the shapes they took - a fish would be a fisherfolk, for example. There was also the tradition of couples throwing walnuts onto an open fire to ensure their fidelity to each other throughout the coming year. 

In more modern times the gifting and use of all of these divination methods fell out of favour, largely in part to increased Christianisation of Cornwall. It's starting to resurface more and more with the resurgence of folk witches and folk traditions, with apples being used as more than just divination - some offer them as gifts to ancestors passed on or as an offering to Ankow or the newly empowered Bucca Dhu. 

A song has been written by a delightful Cornishwoman called Brenda Wootten and it can be found here: 

Next Sunday's post will be about magic and superstition in Cornwall!