Guardians of the Home

Kay Broome

Hedgerow in Winter (Photo: SK)

More than any other time of year, in mid-January in the northern half of the temperate zone, we realize just how precious “home, sweet home” is.  Most of us stay indoors now more than at any other time of the year. Workday mornings consist of a dark drive in or public transit ride, bookcased at night by the same gloomy trudge back home. Most of our winter daylight hours are spent at the workplace, with perhaps a quick scurry outside to grab lunch or a coffee. If we are athletically inclined, we may escape to a noon workout, often taking place in a windowless room.

For those of us who work from home or are retired, the overwhelming urge not to leave our warm, safe burrow is the very reason we need to get outside during the day. Regardless of how unpleasant the weather may turn, I find it compulsory to take a walk, usually during mid to late morning. My blog entry for Cedar outlines the importance of going outside in winter in order to stay healthy, sane and free of the interminable sadness that this time of year can inflict.

          Winter Traffic Jam (Photo: Egor Myznik)

My Home, My Castle

Even if we are disciplined enough to go for daily walks in winter, it is a given that we will remain indoors for longer periods of time.  All the more reason then, that our home be our castle. A welcoming abode can bestow peace and tranquility or bustling vitality when needed. Home is where we most openly express our character, our likes and desires.

We’ve all experienced places that feel immediately welcoming, as well as places that make us depressed or ill at ease. There are various reasons why some places are pleasant and others not and they have nothing to do with wealth or fancy decor. Slovenliness is a big turnoff. At best, it suggests the dweller therein is lazy and undisciplined, expecting others to clean up their mess. In extreme cases, such as hoarding, there are the dangers of allergies or pest infestations, and perhaps indications of mental health issues.

At the opposite end however, cleanliness is no guarantee that a home will be welcoming. Clinically spotless domiciles frequently give off sterile, unwelcoming vibes that make it impossible for the visitor to unwind or feel “at home”. These places suggest the homeowner is more concerned about how others see them than making their house a comfortable place to live – a home.

A Cozy Room (Photo: Mahdi Samei)  

The most welcoming places never try to be something from Better Homes and Gardens, yet their lively, hospitable character, even if humble, evokes contentment. The furniture may not be stylish but it is comfortable; colours, if not fashionable are harmonious and welcoming; hospitality is generous. Many of us feel more at home by bringing something of the outdoors into our dwelling: an empty bird’s nest, wild flowers, autumn leaves, pine cones in winter, something of the season to grace the home. While others buy decorative ornaments such as vases, paintings or fancy mirrors, artistic people like to create their own home furnishings and art. Quilting, woodworking, still life collections of rocks or shells – there are endless ways of beautifying the home, many of which pay tribute to the outdoors. Many pagans give their home a spiritual depth by making shrines to deities with whom they feel a special connection.

Room with Fireplace in Winter (Photo: Clay Banks)

Protectors of Hearth and Home

Many cultures from around the world hold that there are gods of the house and home. In ancient times, the Romans had their Lares and Penates. The former were usually gods of the household; some Lares however, stood watch over places such as crossroads, harbours, farms and military barracks. In fact, anywhere major human activity occurred was overseen by these protective spirits. Lares were often portrayed as two male figures flanking an entity called a genius, which was rather like an individual’s guardian spirit. The Lares Praestites were the protective spirits of the state of Rome.

While the Lares were attached to their place and did not leave it, the Penates were more specifically tied to their actual household. They were believed to reside with the family and could be moved from place to place, by way of likenesses fashioned in their honour.

Lararium at the House of the Vettii, Pompeii, 1st century CE (Photo: Patricio Lorente, Wikipedia)

But what actually were the Lares and Penates – protective spirits of the place, ancestors, fairies, pre-Olympian gods still worshipped by the common people? I believe some at least may have been the latter – perhaps deities worshipped by the Etruscans who had originally settled the Italian peninsula. The singular word Lar is Etruscan and apparently means lord. The Etruscans apparently were involved in ancestor worship. The word Penates is tied to the Latin word for provision or within, implying a deity that protects all that lies within the home.

In fact, I think the household type of most religions may have been based on earlier, more primal deities. Because of their day-to-day salience to common life, while at the same time being unobtrusive in public., more “important” spheres of life, household gods survived conquest, and thrive even to this day, in many areas of the world.

Lady of the Hearth Fire

Hestia, red-figured kylix attributed to Oltos, Tarquinia National Museum, Italy (Wikipedia)

More specifically than the Lares, the Penates were tied to the Roman goddess Vesta who presided over hearth and home. She is associated with the Greek Hestia, one of the Olympian gods, later syncretized with the major deities of Rome. Hestia was first born of the six Olympian gods, children of the earth/fertility goddess Rhea and Cronos, god of time.  Demeter came second, then Hera, then the three sons: Hades fourth, Poseidon and finally Zeus. Cronos had been warned that he would be deposed by one of his children. Therefore, when each of his children were born, Cronos swallowed the infant whole. Rhea had finally had enough of this cannibalism, so when Zeus arrived, she gave Cronos a stone wrapped in swaddling. When the Titan ate his ersatz heir, he proceeded to vomit up the stone along with the other five children in reverse order of birth, with Hestia coming last.  Perhaps this mythic birth and “rebirth” order underlines how important fire was to the Greeks. It is there at the beginning of everything and in the final analysis, is of foremost importance.

Hestia was a key figure in the Greek pantheon, presiding over the hearth fire in Mt. Olympus. She refused to marry, remaining ever virgin and was held to be the first of the goddesses.  Although she did not have a specific temple, she presided over the hearth of the seat of Greek government. She ruled every hearth and home, the first portion of on all offerings being given to her. As important is Hestia was in daily life in Greece, her counterpart Vesta would be given even greater consideration in Roman culture.

Vestal with Ivy Garland, Carl Friedrich Deckler, 1856 (Wikimedia Commons)

Vesta was rarely depicted, represented by the eternal flame in her shrine. No one save her priestesses were allowed to enter her temple, located in the Roman forum. These vestal virgins were chosen in early childhood from wealthy families in order to serve the goddess. Their service as virgin priestesses was a lifelong role.  Loss of virginity, even by rape, would mean death by live burial for any vestal virgin and they were ordained to keep the eternal flame of the temple of Vesta forever alight. Although there was no grand mythology attached to Vesta, and few great works of art depict her, the eternal flame of Vesta was not extinguished until 394 AD. It is perhaps not that surprising that worship at Vesta’s temple lasted longer than at those of her more dramatic and querulous siblings. This factor points to to the importance of the hearth and fire to everyday life, perhaps more so than say Venus’ love affairs or Apollo’s intellectualism.  And if Demeter’s agriculture could be ignored by well-fed city dwellers (as well as in today’s world) we all need fire of some sort to cook our meals and heat our baths, and we all need to stay warm in winter.

Hertha, the Home Goddess

Vrouw Holle or Mother Hulda airing out her pillows and making it snow, Efteling Amusement Park, Kaatsheuvel, Netherlands          (photo: Onderwijsgek, Wikipedia)

Other goddesses that deal with the hearth include Brigid (discussed at Imbolc 2024). She too has household deities of sorts: the brownies, pixies and other fairies of house and home. Hertha, whose name is of the same root as hearth and earth, is generally believed to be a variant of the Norse earth goddess, Nerthus, whose partner was Njord, god of the sea. According to the Roman historian Tacitus, the rites to Nerthus involved her effigy being conveyed in a cow-drawn cart around the countryside where she was honoured by the people. Sacrifices, human and otherwise, were made to her. Many scholars believe the goddess Hertha is a modern construct, but I believe her to be a regional version, with a linguistic variation on the name. The name Hertha sounds similar to Urdr, the Norn who represents the past and likewise lends her name to our planet Earth.

Habondia was honoured by witches in some areas of France and the Netherlands, and was another regional goddess, much as Hertha seems to have been. As her name, meaning abundance implies, Habondia was associated with fertility and good luck. Other folk goddesses who were associated with Hertha are the Germanic Holle – Mother Holly or Mother Hulda – made famous by the brothers Grimm, as well as Perchta, a Germanic/Austrian goddess, also associated with witchcraft, who lends her name to the Norse Pertho rune. This sigil implies the void, as well as birth and feminine mysteries.

The Norse Pertho Rune (Illustration: Kay Broome)

A Living Fence

Of all the plants represented in the Talking Forest, hedges are perhaps the most between two worlds: that of the wilderness, the great out there, and that of home.  Hedge plants border the home grounds, delineating what is yours and what belongs to the municipality, the city or the wilds. Two of the five species represented herein – privet and box are usually plain and unassuming, with small oval, dark green leaves that grow densely on the stalk. These hedges are small to medium in size, tough and adaptable and they take well to being pruned and shaped.

Privet, high summer (left) & Box, turning yellow in early fall (right) (Photo: Kay Broome, West Toronto)

Showier hedges include Forsythia, one of the first plants to bloom, with delightful bright yellow blossoms appearing before the leaves in spring. Spiraea is also popular, with smallish, lightly lobed leaves. During June and July, this hedge is covered with masses of small white flowers. In late autumn and throughout the winter, the thorny barberry graces the muted landscape with small, brilliant red berries. Hedges are useful all year round for those who want to fence off their home yet make it welcoming at the same time. These border plants are a haven to birds and other wild animals, yet they are resistant to disease and pests.

Forsythia in Spring (left) Summer Spiraea, Barberry in Fall  (Photos: Kay Broome, West Toronto)

Be It Ever So Humble

Hedges have been popular since Roman times, going out of fashion during the wars of the Dark Ages, only to return during the 17th Century Baroque era. While they originated among the upper classes, today these plants grace many middle- and working-class homes. Humble they may be, hedges seemingly have been of no great consequence on the mighty affairs of humanity. But they have always profoundly influenced us in a quiet way, much like the goddesses of the hearth, the guardians of house and home.