THE month of May contains a massive amount of weather lore, not only in this country but also overseas. Although it is widely regarded as the month of blossom and new foliage, it can produce some chilly, wet weather, cold winds and even snow. Surprisingly, those kind of conditions are often regarded as beneficial.

One ancient belief tells us that a snowstorm in May is worth a waggon load of hay, and this is supported by another which adds: "Many thunderstorms in May and the farmer shouts 'hey, hey'!"

Indeed, one old piece of advice was to pray for an east wind in May because it was generally thought a cold May was good for the corn and hay crops.

A windy and cold May was regarded as a guarantee that a good harvest would follow and this applied to Scotland as well as England. A lot of dew in May was also regarded as beneficial to the forthcoming harvests.

We are advised not to change into our summer clothing until May is out, although this apparently simple advice is always rendered complicated when some people suggest that the word "May" really means the blossom of the hawthorn rather than this month.

"Change not a clout till May is out" is the oft quoted piece of advice, but in modern times we tend to ignore such suggestions, preferring to follow our own instincts with perhaps a little encouragement from the knowledge that our land is being subjected to global warming.

If we do suffer a wet and chilly May, however, the good news is that the coming September will be warm and dry. But it does seem a long time to wait!

With all the blossom and fresh greenery on show this month, it is surprising that May was widely regarded as an unlucky time to get married.

Even now, I believe modern brides tend to avoid marrying in May, but there seems to be no logical reason for this. There is a possibility that this superstition dates to some 2,000 years ago.

There is a story from ancient Rome when Plutarch, a Greek who was lecturer on philosophy in that city, asked why the Roman men did not take wives in May. He was told it was due to the fact that May was the time to remember the dead and the people wore mourning clothes. It was not considered appropriate to enjoy light-hearted festivities during that time.

Whether this is the true reason for not marrying in May will always be the subject of discussion, but even now we continue to say: "Marry in May, rue for aye."

Talk of weddings reminds me of the custom of kissing the bride. It seems that this originated among poorer people, when the privilege of being the first to kiss the new bride was restricted to the person who gave her away.

This was not her father. In fact, in many cases when a poor person was married in church, the bride's father was not present and neither, in some cases, was her mother. It was considered unlucky for the bride's mother to attend the wedding ceremony, just as it was unlucky if a pig ran across the path ahead of the bride.

In the absence of her father, another man - usually a trusted family friend or relation - was charged with the duty of giving her away for marriage and it seems to have been his right to be the first to kiss the new bride. Apparently there was the occasional dispute about this as some vicars claimed the privilege because it was they who tied the proverbial knot.

Whether the act of kissing the bride was a nationwide practice is rather uncertain, but it appears to have been widespread in the north, in particular Scotland, County Durham and the North Riding of Yorkshire.

In the area around Stokesley and Guisborough, it appears the person who gave away the bride was the one who could exercise this privilege, while in County Durham it was the vicar who claimed the right, although it was not unknown for some Yorkshire vicars to enjoy the custom!

In his book Folk Lore of the Northern Counties of England and the Borders, published in 1866, the author William Henderson tells two delightful stories about kissing the bride.

One occasion occurred in Yorkshire when the clergyman, who was a stranger to the county, found the wedding party waiting around outside the church after the ceremony, as if expecting something else to happen. When he asked what they were waiting for, the new bridegroom said: "Please sir, you haven't kissed Molly." Henderson does not tell us whether or not he obliged!

The second tale concerns a bride from County Durham who got married in the south of England. After the ceremony, she expected the vicar to be the first to kiss her and was very surprised when he didn't. Not to be outdone, however, she strode up to him and planted a handsome kiss upon a rather surprised clergyman. I've no doubt he thought there were some funny folks up north!

So far as Scotland is concerned, it seems the custom was not restricted to either the vicar or the man who gave away the bride. The moment the Scottish wedding ceremony was complete, there was a mad rush by all the young men to claim the first kiss of the new bride. It seems the custom in Scotland dated to the Middle Ages, although in Ireland the conclusion of the wedding ceremony was marked by the priest turning to the husband and saying: "You may now kiss your wife."

There is some suggestion that kissing the bride might date from pre-Reformation times when the kiss of peace was given during mass. In some instances, a sacred object such as a crucifix or reliquary was passed around the congregation to be symbolically kissed in lieu of kissing the people. This was called the pax, the Latin word for peace.

Kissing the bride might have been regarded as a pleasant way of wishing her a peaceful and happy marriage.

My earlier reference to Guisborough reminds me of the tale of the black raven which guards a chest full of gold beneath Gisborough Priory.

First built in 1119 by Robert de Brus with permission from Pope Calixtus II, it was for the Augustinian order of monks and dedicated to The Blessed Virgin Mary.

The current ruin is the third on the site, the first Norman priory being replaced by an English one which was burned down in 1289 by a careless workman. The third was built in 1309, but was destroyed by Henry VIII's commissioners in 1535, with only Fountains, Selby and St Mary's in York then being wealthier.

There has long been a legend that a chest of gold lies in a tunnel which passes beneath Gisborough Priory. The story says the entrance is hidden somewhere close to the part which is nearest the town, and it goes under the priory to emerge about a mile and a half away in open countryside. Midway along is that huge chest of gold, guarded by a massive black raven.

One day a cobbler called Crispin Tocketts decided to look for it, bravely deciding that no raven, however large, would deter him. Off he went, armed with a sword, a staff, some candles to provide light, some food and a roll of wool which he would unravel as he went along so that he could find his way out if his lights failed.

Progress was painfully slow in the dark and narrow tunnel - there were pools of water, hidden tree roots and bats, not to mention falls of earth and rock. At times he had to crawl on hands and knees, but he refused to give up.

His gallant effort was rewarded because, after what seemed hours, his dim lights glinted from a huge chest which was standing in a cavern carved from the earth. The chest, made of massive oak panels and bound with iron, was framed with large stones and stood on a huge stone table. Crispin now knew that the story was true - the treasure was his!

As he hurried towards it, he could see a brass plate bearing strange writing and, when he reached it, he was amazed to find it was not locked. He opened the lid - it was full of coins, chalices and plates in gold and silver. But then the guardian raven appeared. Massive, black and dangerous, it attacked Crispin, swooping over his head, and then it turned into the Devil!

As Satan stood before him, Crispin ran for his life. Since then, no-one has dared to try and find the treasure of Gisborough Priory