Welcome to Ween Season
The Irish Origins of Halloween
Years ago, I really put my foot in it. In talking with an Irish friend, I casually asked, “So, do you celebrate Halloween in Ireland?”
I will never forget his face. Bug-eyed and incredulous, he replied that the Irish invented Halloween, and I would do well not to forget it.
I never have.
Halloween began in Ireland more than 2,000 years ago as part of the Celtic festival known as Samhain, which celebrates the end of the annual harvest and marks the coming of winter. Many believed (and still do!) that the 31st of October saw a lifting of the Veil between the material and metaphysical worlds and that the Aos Sí (spirits), banshees and púkas (ghosts) could slip into our world and make mischief. Fortunately, the good spirits, namely deceased family members and close friends, could come through, too. Communities would leave a fire burning and make a large feast. It is thought that the Celts would wear masks and costumes to disguise themselves from any evil spirits lurking about — the origin of our commercial Halloween masks and costumes!1
In Irish Eyes, American born Adam gets his first taste of a traditional Samhain celebration on Inishmore with Rose as his eager guide. Bonfires, carved gourds, special foods and games — what a fun scene to research and write!
Sit back with a handful of candy corn and enjoy this excerpt from Irish Eyes, as told by Rose, and I hope you’ll preorder the book!
Before I knew it, the 31st of October, Samhain Eve, the start of the ancient Celtic New Year, was upon us. During the day, we played snap apple, sprinkled the barn animals with holy water, and kicked dust beneath our shoes to ward off evil spirits and mischief-making fairies. At sunset, a bonfire was built upon the beach. Bundled against the briskness, we young people gathered about it, the spit and crackle underscoring snatches of laughter and haphazard singing, the occasional rift in the clouds revealing the stars’ beacon brightness.
Standing with Adam, our hands held out to the heat, I felt a stab of sadness, and not only because winter’s rough seas brought danger to our men and scarcity to our tables. The change of season must mean he’d be leaving us soon, for I had to think he was expected home for the Christmas holiday if not before.
“Bonfire’s burning grand-like,” I ventured, resolved to make merry whilst we still might.
“It’s an impressive blaze,” he agreed though his heart didn’t sound much in it.
Before I could think what next to say, Úna, a girl I knew from our school days but had never much liked, ran up. “Who is it you’re seeing in the fire, Moira Rose? One close by, I’ll wager.” She cut a look to Adam, and her lip lifted.
Mortified, I stuffed down the urge to slap her. My restraint was rewarded. Before she might say more, a lad she fancied sidled up and hooked his arm through hers, drawing her off to the dancing.
“What was that about?” Adam asked once they’d moved out of earshot.
I forced a shrug. “Staring into the bonfire on Samhain Eve’s thought to bring on dreams of your future groom. Or bride.”
Adam turned to me, the flames playing upon his face, filled out since he’d first come to us. “Really? What else?”
I hesitated. “A woman dropping a cutting of her hair into the fire will see the face of her future husband in the embers. A silly superstition,” I was quick to add. Superstition or not, I’d slipped a cinnamon curl inside my pocket, awaiting the moment when he stepped away.
Eventually, waning flames and gusting winds drove us indoors. But the celebrating was far from finished. Young and old flocked to our pub, where there was drink aplenty as well as music – my father on his mouth organ, Colm on his fiddle, and Da’s best mate, Tam McGhee on his button accordion. Tables and benches were pushed aside to make room for the dancing. Adam had scarcely shrugged free of his coat when he was captured and dragged out onto the floor by Úna, no matter that he scarcely knew the steps or that he’d only just left off using his cane. Rather than stand by and stomach her simpering, I slipped behind the bar and busied myself with passing out the poteen, our local malted barley whiskey.
It was there that Adam found me a while later. “All work and no play,” he teased, giving my apron a playful pull. “You should be out dancing, not stuck back here.”
I dropped my gaze to the pitcher I was toweling dry. “No one’s asked me yet.”
He lifted the pass-through and held out his hand. “Consider yourself asked.”
Copyright 2023 Hope C. Tarr
IRISH EYES, the launch of my American Songbook series, releases December 7. Preorder the novel on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Bookshop.org and wherever books are sold.
#SavetheDate
DECEMBER
Thursday, December 7th
Book launch!
Hope in conversation with Nancy Bilyeau (THE ORCHID HOUR).
Thunder Road Books
3rd Avenue, Spring Lake New Jersey
5 – 7 pm
JANUARY
Thursday, January 4th
Hope in conversation with Fiona Davis (THE SPECTACULAR).
Barnes & Noble Upper West Side
2289 Broadway (@ 82nd Street), NY, NY
6:30 – 8:00pm
Check my website to see what new events are added!
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https://dorset.ie/the-history-of-halloween-in-ireland/
What a beautiful excerpt.
I did know of the Hallowe'en Samhain origin in Ireland.