It was down into Bridport today for the annual wassailing ceremony in the community orchard.
‘Wassailing? What’s that?’ a friend of mine said when she asked about my plans for the weekend.
So, stiltedly (because I wasn’t absolutely sure), I rambled on about blessing the cider apple trees and scaring away evil spirits to ensure a good crop later in the year.
I ought to know, being the daughter of many generations of Somerset farmers.
My father had a small orchard full of Tom Putt apples, Morgan Sweets and Dabinetts. There were other varieties, I’m sure, but these are the names I remember.
Small orchards were part and parcel of farming life for years, certainly in my part of south Somerset. My late grandfather was renowned for his cider. The American troops stationed locally during World War II were regular callers to Grandpa’s Saloon.
But then cider fell rather drunkenly off the wagon and the small orchards were scrubbed out. It took enthusiasts like Nick Poole of West Milton Cider in Dorset for the amber nectar to regain its popularity.
He and pomologist Liz Copas hunted down long-forgotten cider apple varieties and wrote a book, The Lost Orchards: rediscovering the forgotten cider apples of Dorset. It’s a fascinating journey of discovery and, as publishers Little Toller Books say: ‘This hopeful story will resonate widely and inspire others around the country – and around the world – to look closely at their surroundings and take steps to rediscover, celebrate and conserve the orchards that make their locality special.’
These days, as well as the big producers, there are hundreds of makers across the country crafting exceptionally good cider, and, quite rightly, the distinctive drink has a new fan base.
Today, in Bridport’s community orchard, there were morris dancers, mulled cider, storytelling and the biggest audience yet for the annual event, who joined in the wassailing songs to promote a good harvest for the coming year.
The Dorset Ooser also made an appearance but, luckily, there were so many people gathered around that my two-year-old grandson didn’t spot this terrifying creature from local folklore.
The wassailers didn’t sing this one, which is not surprising as Bridport is in Dorset. However, it’s the only such song I know, so here you go:
Here’s to a great week.
That’s about it.
Love, Maddie x
Maddie Grigg 
I’m loving the word pomologist. I assumed it was derived from the French for apple, pomme, but in fact it refers to the study and cultivation of all fruits. So which came first, the pomme or the pomologist? In fact they both came from the Latin pomum meaning fruit. So that’s my internet rabbit hole for today!
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I went down a similar rabbit hole around the etymology of the word ‘wassail’! Wikipedia: ‘According to the Oxford English Dictionary, the word “wassail” originated as a borrowing from the Old Norse salutation ves heill, corresponding to Old English hál wes þú or wes hál – literally meaning ‘be in good health’ or ‘be fortunate’. It was initially used in the sense of ‘hail’ or ‘farewell’, without any drinking connotation. The English interjection “hail” is a cognate of the etymon of the second part of “wassail”, and was probably influenced by the Old English phrase.’ You’re welcome.
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