{"id":12,"date":"2012-07-22T20:53:00","date_gmt":"2012-07-22T20:53:00","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/chalicecentre.net\/blog\/the-faery-lore-of-foxgloves\/"},"modified":"2014-10-14T18:47:16","modified_gmt":"2014-10-14T18:47:16","slug":"the-faery-lore-of-foxgloves","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/chalicecentre.net\/blog\/the-faery-lore-of-foxgloves\/","title":{"rendered":"The Faery Lore of Foxgloves"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"foxgloves-282-29\"<\/a>Foxgloves
\nFaery gloves
\nFaery caps and bells –
\nFoxgloves are the Folks’ Gloves,
\nthe Good Folk, that is,
\nand you’d better not forget it if you think to cut them down.<\/p>\n

In the Faery Glen
\non the Isle of Skye,
\nfoxgloves stand like watchful sentinels of the Hidden People.
\nOn Highland hillsides they march in crimson,
\nlike the hosts of trooping faeries.<\/p>\n

In Ireland\u2019s wooded hollows,
\nglowing purple in the dusk,
\nfoxglove is the lus na mban sidhe,
\nthe Plant of the Faery Woman.<\/p>\n

In Donegal, the blossoms are me\u00edr\u00edn\u00ed p\u00faca, Puck’s fingers,
\nor m\u00e9aracan s\u00eddhe, Shilly Thimbles, Thimbles of the S\u00eddhe.
\nWhen a foxglove bows its head, a faery is passing by.
\nFaeries have been seen dancing beneath them in the Welsh Marches, not so long ago.
\nAnd in Ireland, according to a story told to Yeats, they often hide under the leaves
\nwhere the casual observer mistakes their red caps for the crimson bells.<\/p>\n

\"bee-on-foxglove-flower-29941281354257b0Dh\"<\/a>Foxgloves are also called bee-catchers and beehives in the West Country.
\nIt is said that the path of brown and white spots on the floor of each bell are
\nthe marks of elven fingers,
\ndesigned to lead the bee towards the nectar.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Whoever was responsible,
\nfoxgloves have certainly been designed
\nwith the foraging bee in mind.
\nEach bell has a projecting lower lip for a landing pad,
\nfrom which the bee can proceed down the illuminated runway.
\nThe anthers of the stamens lie flat along the inside “roof” of the bell
\nso that its pollen rubs off on the bee\u2019s back.
\nThe bee then transfers the pollen to the next flower enabling it to produce seeds:
\n1 to 2 million from each plant.<\/p>\n

\"foxglove-bells-white\"<\/a>Foxgloves have a darker side:
\nThey belong to the dead
\nwhose blood and bones make fertile soil.
\nSo their blossoms are also
\nDead Man’s Thimbles,
\nDead Man\u2019s Bellows, (the phallus)
\nor, in Scotland, ciochan nan cailleachan marblia:
\nDead old woman’s paps.
\nIn Wales they are Dead Men\u2019s Bells.
\nIf you hear them ringing, you will not be long for this world.<\/p>\n

\"foxglove\"<\/a>Meddle with a foxglove
\nand you may become faery-struck.
\nYet it can also cure any misfortune caused by the faeries.
\nIf a child is Taken and a squalling changeling left in its place,
\nplace foxglove leaves beneath its crib.
\nThe faeries will bring back the stolen child.<\/p>\n

In Ireland it is lus-mor<\/em>, the Great Plant,
\nbecause of its healing virtues.
\nAnd in Wales it was one of the healing herbs
\ntaught by the faery woman of Llyn y Fan Fach to her half-human sons,
\nwho became the famous Physicians of Myddfai. Here foxgloves are bysedd ellyllon<\/em>, Fingers of the Elves.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Foxgloves are also Witches’ Fingers,
\nonce prized by the wise women of old,
\nfor the treatment of sores, ulcers and wounds, and all manner of ills
\nfrom the common cold to the King’s Evil,
\nbut especially in the treatment of heart conditions.<\/p>\n

It was a wise woman of Shropshire who taught one Dr. Withering
\nhow to use it for cardiac complaints in the 18th century.
\nToday foxgloves are cultivated on huge farms in the eastern United States
\nsolely for medicinal purposes.
\nDigitalis, its botanical name, means “fingers.”
\nWhose fingers?<\/p>\n

Foxgloves by Mary Webb<\/strong><\/p>\n

\"foxgloves\"<\/a><\/p>\n

The foxglove bells, with lolling tongue,
\nWill not reveal what peals were rung
\nIn Faery, in Faery,
\nA thousand ages gone.
\nAll the golden clappers hang
\nAs if but now the changes rang;
\nOnly from the mottled throat
\nNever any echoes float.
\nQuite forgotten, in the wood,
\nPale, crowded steeples rise;
\nAll the time that they have stood
\nNone has heard their melodies.
\nDeep, deep in wizardry
\nAll the foxglove belfries stand.
\nShould they startle over the land,
\nNone would know what bells they be.
\nNever any wind can ring them,
\nNor the great black bees that swing them\u2013
\nEvery crimson bell, down-slanted,
\nIs so utterly enchanted.<\/p>\n

Please like & share:<\/span><\/div>
<\/fb:like><\/div>
<\/div><\/div>