St Brigid's Cross

Here in the West of Ireland, today, the 1st of February is the traditional First Day of Spring and is therefore the day we all rush out and make the traditional square crosses associated with St Brigid, one of Ireland's major saints. Well, the crosses looked fairly simple to us and are made of rushes. Rushes are one thing we are definitely not short of - we have an acre and a half of the things just outside the back door in the "pasture" we call our East Field.  We decided to give it a go, entering into the spirit of local traditions and all that.

We had a quick look on the internet and soon found some simple instructions. It is a bit like the corn-dolly making which I used to do and was quite good at. You'd have laughed at my rush-harvesting efforts. Liz had gone up for her shower this morning and I nipped out to get a few rushes but I was still dressed in my dark brown toweling dressing-gown and had slipped on a pair of sandals. I grabbed my hand-scythe ("swap hook")  and hopped through the cattle fence trying to avoid the puddles. At that point it started raining. Anyone looking would have thought there was some mad monk out in the field - scythe, cassock, sandals, rushes - must have looked like Brother Cadfael!

Saint Brigid seems to be famous for two main things. The crosses come from a story where she was asked to go and comfort a (Pagan) Regional King who is raving with a fever on his deathbed. She decides there is no talking to him in that state. In those days the floors were strewn with rushes, so she sat by his bedside, picked up a few rushes and quietly sat and wove a cross out of them. Calmed down, the King starts to express an interest in this girl and the cross she is making. She tells him the stories or Jesus and the Cross and he converts to Christianity there and then. I do not know if he then dies of the fever anyway, or recovers, but what ever the case, the crosses have been made 'ever since' in memory of this.

The second story has Brigid healing another King and asking her what she wants as a payment. Brigid asks for some land on which to build a nunnery. The King is a mean old git and poo-poos this, saying she can have anything that she can cover with her mantle (cape). She spreads her cape on the ground and, Lo! By the power of all the best religious miracles, her cape is suddenly the size of the Curragh in Kildare. The Curragh, you may know is a huge chunk of land near Dublin which currently houses not only the famous race course, but also the Army camp and training ground (similar to Salisbury Plain in the UK). Traditionally none of this can now be ploughed up.

I think I have this right, but feel free to jump in any 'real' Catholic Scholars (or Saints) and correct me. Anyway, our crosses are complete. Mine looks a bit rustic with its ends tied with more rushes; Liz's looks a bit neater and more even. I asked what happens now. I am told they just stay there, wedged behind pictures or (in my case) propped up in the wire, chicken-shaped egg basket, round till next year, when you throw them away and make new ones.

Happy First Day of Spring, everyone.