The Mari Lwyd

 Mari Lwyd

The Mari Lwyd (Welsh: Y Fari Lwyd, pronounced roughly “mah-ree loo-id”) is a traditional Welsh folk custom, primarily from South Wales, often described as one of the country’s most eerie and unique midwinter traditions

It is a form of wassailing (a ritual of visiting homes for food, drink, and good luck). A group carries a decorated horse’s skull mounted on a pole, with the carrier hidden under a white sheet. The skull is typically adorned with ribbons, bells, rosettes, and sometimes bottle-bottom eyes for a glowing effect. The jaws can be snapped open and shut via strings or levers, giving it an animated, ghostly appearance.

How the Tradition Goes

The group (often including characters like a leader, Punch and Judy figures, or a sergeant) goes door-to-door or pub-to-pub during the winter festive period, typically between Christmas and New Year’s (sometimes extending to Twelfth Night or even Candlemas). They sing verses challenging the householders to let them in. The residents respond with their own improvised rhymes or insults in a verbal battle called pwnco (a rhyming contest). If the Mari Lwyd party “wins” (or the householders eventually relent), they gain entry, bringing supposed good luck for the year. Inside, they sing more songs, receive food and drink, and the Mari can be mischievous—chasing people or causing playful chaos.

Origins and Meaning

The name likely means “Grey Mare” (referring to the pale, ghostly horse figure), though some older theories link it to “Holy Mary.” It has probable pre-Christian pagan roots, possibly tied to Celtic symbolism of horses as otherworldly creatures connected to fertility, death, or the underworld. It shares elements with broader British hoodening or hobby horse traditions but is distinctly Welsh. The custom declined in the 19th-20th centuries due to religious criticism (seen as too rowdy or pagan) but has seen a strong revival in modern Wales as a celebration of cultural heritage.

It’s a blend of spooky, humorous, and communal—perfect for dark winter nights!

The history of elves and gonks

 The Jolly Little Helpers: A Whirlwind Tour of Christmas Elves and Gonks

Ah, Christmas and Yule  – that magical time of year when the air smells like cinnamon, cookies vanish mysteriously, and tiny bearded fellows seem to be everywhere, from shelves to workshops. But wait: are those pointy-eared toy-makers in striped stockings the same as those fluffy, hat-over-the-eyes gnomes peeking from your mantelpiece? Spoiler alert: no! Welcome to the delightfully tangled history and folklore of Christmas elves and gonks – two festive favourites with roots in mischief, magic, and a serious love for porridge.

Let’s start with the elves, those hyper-efficient North Pole interns we all know and love. Picture this: a bustling workshop, hammers clinking, reindeer munching carrots, and dozens of green-clad, pointy-eared sprites dashing about making toys.

But these elves weren’t always Santa’s overworked staff. Their story goes way back to ancient Norse mythology, where “álfar” (elves) were ethereal beings – sometimes beautiful light elves shining brighter than the sun, sometimes sneaky dark ones lurking underground. 

Fast-forward through centuries of European folklore, and elves pop up as tricksters: helpful one minute (like in the Brothers Grimm’s “The Elves and the Shoemaker,” where they secretly cobble shoes overnight), pranksters the next (blaming tangled hair on “elf-locks”).

The big Christmas glow-up happened in the 19th century. In 1823, Clement Clarke Moore’s poem “A Visit from St. Nicholas” (you know, “’Twas the Night Before Christmas”) called Santa himself a “jolly old elf” – tiny, magical, and dashing with reindeer.

Soon, illustrators like those in Godey’s Lady’s Book (1873) surrounded Santa with a crew of diminutive helpers. By the early 20th century, especially in America, elves became Santa’s toy factory workforce – cheerful, industrious, and eternally youthful. Today, they’re the stars of movies, ads, and that pesky “Elf on the Shelf” tradition (which, let’s be honest, is just organized parental mischief).

All About Elf on the Shelf: Santa’s Sneaky Little Scout

If you’ve got kids (or just scroll through holiday social media), you’ve probably encountered the Elf on the Shelf – that wide-eyed, red-suited doll who turns December into a month-long game of hide-and-seek with a side of behavioral surveillance. Love it or loathe it (parents, we see those 3 a.m. panic moves), it’s become a modern Christmas staple. Here’s the full scoop on this cheeky tradition!

The Origin Story

The Elf on the Shelf isn’t some ancient folklore – it’s a relatively new invention with wholesome family roots. It started in the 1970s with Carol Aebersold and her family in Georgia, USA. Carol had a pixie elf doll named Fisbee from her own childhood. In 1974, she introduced Fisbee to her three kids (including twins Chanda Bell and Christa Pitts), explaining that the elf watched their behavior during the day and flew back to the North Pole each night to report to Santa.

Fast-forward to 2004: Chanda Bell suggested turning this family tradition into a book. Carol and Chanda wrote the rhyming story, illustrated by Coë Steinwart, and in 2005, they self-published The Elf on the Shelf: A Christmas Tradition. Christa Pitts joined to handle marketing. Initially rejected by every publisher, they sold it themselves – and boom! It exploded in popularity, especially after celebrity sightings (like Jennifer Garner) and media buzz in 2007.

Today, it’s run by The Lumistella Company (founded by the family), which has expanded into a massive “Santaverse” with movies, musicals, parades, and more.

Now, pivot to the gonks – those squat, bearded blobs with oversized hats flopping over their eyes, looking like they’ve just rolled out of a cozy Nordic cabin.

“Gonk” is a quirky British term (popularized in the 1960s-70s for plush toys), but these are really the ancient Scandinavian tomte (Sweden), nisse (Norway/Denmark), or tonttu (Finland). Rooted in pre-Christian folklore, these solitary household spirits guarded farms and homes. Small (often elderly-man sized but shrunk), bearded, and dressed in simple farmer clothes with a conical hat, they were protectors: helping with chores at night, watching livestock, bringing good fortune – but only if respected!

Offend a tomte/nisse? Forget the porridge (julgröt) with a big pat of butter on Christmas Eve? Oh boy. They’d tie cows’ tails, hide tools, or worse – sabotage the farm. These guys were temperamental guardians, not toy-makers. Their Christmas tie-in grew in the 19th century, blending with St. Nicholas traditions; in some places, the jultomte/julenisse became the gift-bringer himself. Today, gonks are hygge personified – plush decorations symbolising warmth, luck, and a nod to those old winter solstice spirits.

So, elves vs. gonks? Elves are Santa’s energetic crew: pointy ears, colorful outfits, North Pole hustle. Gonks are chill home guardians: hidden faces, earthy vibes, porridge enthusiasts. One’s about global toy delivery frenzy; the other’s about quiet farm protection (with a side of pranks).

In the end, both remind us Christmas magic comes from ancient tales of helpful (and slightly naughty) little beings. Whether you’re team elf (go, workshop warriors!) or team gonk (porridge for everyone!), these folklore favorites add that extra sparkle – and maybe a bit of mischief – to the season. Just remember: leave out cookies for elves… and buttery porridge for gonks. You don’t want tangled reindeer reins or knotted cow tails this year!

The Yule Log

 The Cozy Glow of the Yule Log: From Ancient Fires to Modern Treats

Picture this: It’s a chilly winter evening, the shortest day of the year has just passed, and your family gathers around a massive log crackling in the hearth, flames dancing as stories are told and hopes for the new year flicker to life. That’s the essence of the Yule log tradition – a ritual that’s warmed hearts for centuries, symbolizing light triumphing over darkness. But like many holiday customs, it’s evolved in fascinating ways, from pagan bonfires to chocolate cakes and even TV screens.

The roots go way back to pre-Christian Europe, tied to winter solstice celebrations. Ancient Norse and Germanic peoples celebrated “Yule” (or jól) around the solstice, marking the sun’s rebirth with feasting, fires, and evergreens. Burning a huge log – often oak, ash, or birch – was thought to bring good luck, protect against evil, and ensure fertility for crops. The log was chosen ceremoniously, sometimes decorated, sprinkled with wine or oil, and meant to burn for days (ideally 12, echoing the 12 days of Christmas later on). Ashes were saved for protection or scattered on fields.

The Yule Log and Its Ties to Paganism: A Blurry but Fascinating Connection

Okay, let’s dive into this cozy holiday staple – is the Yule log truly a pagan relic, or more of a medieval mash-up? The short answer: It’s complicated. Popular culture loves to call it an ancient pagan ritual, straight from Norse or Germanic winter solstice vibes, but scholars are more cautious. The tradition has strong associations with paganism through its name, symbolism, and timing, but the hard evidence for the specific “burn a massive log” custom points to medieval Christian Europe, with possible (but unproven) deeper roots.

The word “Yule” itself is undeniably pagan. It comes from Old English “geōl” or Old Norse “jól,” referring to a midwinter festival celebrated by Germanic and Scandinavian peoples long before Christianity arrived. These pre-Christian Yule celebrations marked the winter solstice – the longest night, when the sun “returns” – with feasting, bonfires, and rituals to honor the rebirth of light. Fires were big in solstice traditions across ancient Europe (think Romans, Celts, and Norse), symbolizing warmth, protection from evil, and the sun’s victory over darkness.

Many sources link the Yule log directly to these pagan roots: a huge log (sometimes a whole tree trunk) burned to bring good luck, fertility, and sunlight’s return. Ashes were scattered for protection or crops, and it tied into gods like Thor or Odin. Modern neo-pagans enthusiastically revive it as a solstice ritual, burning logs with intentions for the new year.

But here’s the scholarly caveat: The earliest documented evidence of burning a special “Christmas log” dates to the 12th century (around 1184 CE in Europe), and in England, it’s not mentioned until the 17th century (first as “Christmas log” in 1648 poetry, then “Yule log” soon after). Historians like Ronald Hutton argue it’s likely a medieval invention that spread across Christian Europe, later retroactively tied to pagan Yule because “Yule” just meant “Christmas season” by then. Early church writings condemn pagan fire rituals around January, but nothing exactly matches the Yule log – more like not sharing hearth fire or offerings to stumps

As Christianity spread, the tradition got a makeover. By medieval times in places like France, England, and Scandinavia, the log became part of Christmas Eve rituals. It represented Christ’s light in the darkness or warmth for the holy family. Families would drag in a massive trunk (sometimes the whole tree!), light it with a piece saved from last year, and keep it going through the holidays. Superstitions abounded: If it went out early, bad luck; if shadows danced weirdly, watch out for misfortune.

Scholars debate how “pagan” it really was – some evidence points to it being more of a medieval Christian custom that borrowed the name “Yule” (an old word for the season) – but either way, it blended beautifully into holiday folklore.

Fast-forward to the 19th century in France, when fireplaces started shrinking in urban homes (thanks, Napoleon-era chimney regulations or just city life?). The real log became impractical, so clever pâtissiers turned it into dessert: the bûche de Noël! This rolled sponge cake, filled with buttercream and frosted to look like bark (complete with meringue mushrooms and powdered-sugar snow), first popped up around the 1830s-1870s, with recipes documented by the late 1800s. It was a sweet nod to the old ritual, perfect for the table instead of the hearth.

Then came the 20th century’s genius twist: the TV Yule log. In 1966, New York station WPIX filmed a roaring fireplace at Gracie Mansion, looped it with holiday tunes, and aired it on Christmas Eve. Why? To give apartment dwellers without fireplaces that cozy vibe – and let station staff go home early! It was a hit, running for hours commercial-free. They refilmed it in 1970 for better quality, and it became a beloved tradition, revived in 2001 after fan petitions. Now, it’s streamed everywhere, with countless YouTube versions (some with cats, jazz, or even Star Wars twists).

Today, whether you’re burning a real log (rare but still done in some rural spots), slicing into a decadent bûche, or queuing up a crackling video with cocoa in hand, the Yule log reminds us of the same thing: In the deepest winter, light and warmth always return.

The history of the Christmas Tree

 The Magic of the Christmas Tree: A Timeless Tradition

Ah, the Christmas tree – that glorious, twinkling centerpiece of holiday cheer that somehow makes even the messiest living room feel magical. Every year, millions of us drag a pine (or fake one) into our homes, string it with lights, and hang ornaments while blasting carols. But have you ever stopped mid-tinsel to wonder where this all came from? The Christmas tree has a fascinating backstory, blending ancient rituals, religious symbolism, and a dash of royal influence, and it’s way more significant than just a spot to stash presents.

Let’s rewind to the very beginning. Long before twinkling lights or glass baubles, evergreens were revered in ancient cultures for staying green through brutal winters – a bold symbol of life triumphing over death. The Egyptians brought palm branches indoors during the winter solstice to celebrate their sun god Ra’s recovery. Romans decked their homes with evergreen boughs for Saturnalia, hoping for a bountiful spring. Druids and Vikings did similar things, using evergreens to ward off evil or honor gods. Basically, humans have been obsessed with “hey, this plant doesn’t die in the cold!” for millennia. 

Fast-forward to medieval Europe, and things get more Christmas-y. In Germany around the 16th century, the modern Christmas tree as we know it started taking shape. Devout Christians brought fir trees indoors, decorating them as “Paradise trees” to represent the Garden of Eden – complete with apples for the forbidden fruit and wafers for redemption. There’s a charming (if likely apocryphal) legend about Martin Luther wandering through a snowy forest, awestruck by stars twinkling through branches, and deciding to recreate the scene at home with candles on a tree. Germany gets the credit for kicking off the indoor decorated tree tradition, often with nuts, fruits, and those risky real candles

By the 19th century, the trend exploded. German immigrants took it to America, but it really went viral thanks to British royalty. Queen Victoria and her German-born husband, Prince Albert, set up a lavish tree at Windsor Castle, and when an illustration of their family gathered around it hit the newspapers in 1848, everyone wanted one. Suddenly, Christmas trees were the height of fashion across England and the U.S.

So, what’s the deeper significance? At its core, the Christmas tree is a powerful symbol of hope and renewal. The evergreen represents eternal life, tying into Christian ideas of Jesus as the light of the world (hence the candles and lights). The triangular shape points heavenward, ornaments evoke stars or fruits of paradise, and the star or angel on top recalls the Bethlehem star or heavenly messengers. But it’s evolved beyond religion – today, it’s a secular beacon of joy, family bonding, and that cozy winter magic.

Around the world, the tradition twists in fun ways. In Germany, trees are often decorated secretly and revealed on Christmas Eve. Norway gifts massive trees to cities like London as thanks for WWII aid. Some places use unique “trees” – like Georgia’s curly hazelnut branch chichilaki or tropical adaptations in warmer climates. But everywhere, it’s about gathering loved ones. Of course, Pagans and witches also put up trees at this time usually for Yule Tide but its meaning and symbolism is essentially the same minus of course the Christian bits and with added pagan decorations and historical significance.

In the end, whether your tree is a towering real fir scented with pine or a minimalist artificial one, it’s more than decor. It’s a thread connecting us to ancient solstice celebrations, medieval faith, and Victorian whimsy – a reminder that even in the darkest season, there’s light, life, and a reason to celebrate together.

The true history of Santa

 The Jolly Journey: Unwrapping the True Origins of Santa Claus

Ah, Santa Claus—the plump, rosy-cheeked fellow who somehow squeezes down chimneys, commands a fleet of flying reindeer, and judges your behavior all year round. We all know him as the ultimate Christmas MVP, but where did this bearded boss of benevolence really come from? Spoiler: He’s not just a Coca-Cola invention (though they did give him a killer makeover). Santa’s origins are a wild mash-up of history, legend, pagan vibes, and good old-fashioned American marketing magic. Buckle up for a sleigh ride through time!

Let’s start at the beginning, way back in the 4th century in what is now Turkey. Meet Saint Nicholas, a real-life Greek bishop born around 270 AD in the town of Patara. This guy was no slouch: orphaned young and loaded with inheritance cash, he became famous for secret acts of kindness. His most legendary stunt? Sneaking gold coins into the home of a poor family to save their three daughters from a grim fate (think dowries to avoid poverty-driven desperation). One tale says he tossed the coins down the chimney, where they landed in stockings drying by the fire—boom, origin of hanging stockings! Saint Nick became the patron saint of children, sailors, and even pawnbrokers (those three gold balls on pawn shops? That’s him). He died on December 6, 343 AD, and his feast day turned into a gift-giving tradition across Europe.

Fast-forward to medieval Europe, where Saint Nicholas morphed into various local gift-bringers. In the Netherlands, he became Sinterklaas, a stern but kind figure who arrives on a white horse (or sometimes a steamboat in modern parades), accompanied by helpers who check if kids have been naughty or nice. Dutch settlers brought Sinterklaas to New Amsterdam (aka New York) in the 1600s, and his name got Americanized into “Santa Claus” by the 1770s.

But wait—there’s a pagan twist! Some of Santa’s coolest features, like flying through the sky and rewarding good behavior, echo Norse god Odin. During the winter Yule celebrations, Odin rode his eight-legged horse Sleipnir across the heavens, leading the Wild Hunt. Kids left treats for Sleipnir by the chimney, and Odin might drop gifts in return. Bearded sky-rider with animal helpers? Sound familiar? As Christianity spread, these old pagan traditions blended with Saint Nicholas stories, giving Santa his magical flair.

Now, the modern Santa we adore? That’s mostly an American invention. In 1823, the poem “A Visit from St. Nicholas” (you know, “‘Twas the night before Christmas”) introduced reindeer, a sleigh, and a jolly elf-like Santa. Cartoonist Thomas Nast in the 1860s-1880s drew him as a chubby, bearded guy in a red suit for Harper’s Weekly. But the iconic red-and-white look exploded in the 1930s thanks to Coca-Cola’s ads—artist Haddon Sundblom painted a friendly, Coke-sipping Santa that became the global standard.

Fun bonus facts to wow your holiday party: Santa’s “ho ho ho” laugh? Popularized in the 1800s. Mrs. Claus? She debuted in stories around 1849. And reindeer names like Dasher and Dancer? Straight from that 1823 poem. Oh, and in some countries, Santa’s helpers include scary figures like Krampus to keep kids in line!

So, the “true” origins of Santa Claus? He’s a glorious remix: a real saint’s generosity, mixed with European folklore, pagan sky gods, and a dash of capitalist sparkle. No matter his roots, Santa reminds us that giving (and maybe leaving out cookies) brings joy to the world. Ho ho ho—happy holidays! 

Global Gift-Givers: Santa’s Cousins Around the World

Santa Claus might dominate the holiday scene with his red suit and reindeer sleigh, but he’s got a massive extended family of mythical figures delivering gifts (or coal… or potatoes) during the winter holidays. These characters blend ancient folklore, pagan traditions, Christian saints, and local twists—proving that the spirit of giving is universal, even if the delivery method involves broomsticks, goats, or demons!

Let’s tour the world and meet some of Santa’s most fascinating relatives:

Ded Moroz (Russia and Eastern Europe)

Grandfather Frost is a tall, bearded wizard in a long fur coat (often blue or red) who brings gifts on New Year’s Eve. He’s accompanied by his granddaughter Snegurochka (the Snow Maiden), and they travel in a troika (horse-drawn sleigh). Rooted in Slavic winter gods, he was once banned under Soviet rule but made a comeback—minus the religious vibes.

La Befana (Italy)

Forget the jolly old man—Italy has a kind-hearted witch! On Epiphany Eve (January 5), Befana flies on a broomstick, slipping down chimneys to fill good kids’ stockings with candy and bad ones with coal. Legend says she missed joining the Three Wise Men to see baby Jesus, so now she searches forever, leaving gifts along the way.

Krampus (Alpine regions: Austria, Germany, etc.)

Santa’s naughty counterpart! This horned, furry demon with chains and a sack punishes misbehaving children on Krampusnacht (December 5), while Saint Nicholas handles the nice ones. Parades feature terrifying Krampus costumes—definitely not for the faint-hearted.

Father Christmas (United Kingdom)

The original British gift-bringer, often in a green robe with holly, representing the spirit of winter feasting. He’s evolved into the red-suited Santa we know, but traditional depictions keep that old-school Yuletide vibe.

Jultomten (Sweden)

A gnome-like figure from folklore who lives under the floorboards or in the barn. Leave him porridge, and he’ll bring gifts on Christmas Eve. He’s blended with Santa but keeps that mischievous tomte (house spirit) charm.

Olentzero (Basque Country, Spain)

A jolly charcoal burner with a pipe and beret who descends from the mountains on Christmas Eve to bring gifts. Once a pagan giant, he’s now a beloved, rotund figure celebrating Basque traditions.

Los Reyes Magos (Spain and Latin America)

The Three Wise Men (Kings) arrive on January 6 (Epiphany), riding camels in grand parades. Kids leave shoes out for gifts, grass for the camels—and sometimes get coal if they’ve been bad.

Other fun mentions: Iceland’s 13 mischievous Yule Lads (who leave gifts or rotten potatoes over 13 days), Finland’s goat-inspired Joulupukki, and France’s Père Noël. From benevolent grandpas to broom-riding witches and scary demons, these myths show how cultures remix generosity, folklore, and a little fear to keep the holidays exciting.

No matter the name or look, the message is the same: Be good, spread joy, and maybe leave out some treats!