COUNTRY people of the past paid a lot of attention to this day's weather, not only because it is the equinox which marks the beginning of a new autumn, but also because it is the feast day of St Matthew.

By tradition, it was the time for the bees to end their summer's work and be secured in their hives, while people would obtain a stock of new candles in readiness for the onset of dark nights.

Weather lore said that "St Matthew shuts up the bees and brings the cold, the rain and the dew", but in fact this part of September can be beautifully mild with lots of sunshine and clear days.

One of the conditions to savour today, hopefully, was a south wind because it was supposed to mean that the rest of the autumn would be mild, and another belief was that the period of three days from September 20 to September 22 governed the weather for the coming October, November and December.

Rainfall today was also thought to be beneficial particularly as it helped to fatten grazing livestock before the onset of winter while a bright and clear day was often considered a forecast of a successful harvest the following year.

For us, of course, today means that our nights and days are, for the moment, of equal length but this rapidly changes as darkness dominates our evenings and we begin to think of open fires as we continue to enjoy the seasonal changes and wonderful colours in the countryside.

Roots of a problem

One of the enduring disputes about the ivy is whether or not it is harmful to objects like walls or trees.

Many older rural gentlemen would stubbornly remove every scrap of ivy from their trees, believing it sapped their strength and eventually killed them. Similarly, other people thought that ivy ruined stone and brick walls and so it can, not by draining the goodness from the stones but by its shoots and roots finding crevices in which they may flourish and expand to eventually cause damage.

The tiny roots by which the ivy clings to the wall will do no harm, however, nor will they harm trees to which it clings; a moderate amount of ivy will not strangle a tree, for it will merely use it as a support.

If the covering of ivy is allowed to grow too profusely, however, its sheer weight could result in the collapse of its host tree, and, of course, it could also smother the young shoots.

Allowing just the right amount is not easy, which is why most gardeners remove any hint of ivy which threatens to grow upon their domestic trees.

So far as houses are concerned, a covering of ivy upon the walls has always been considered a good thing, with the ivy itself being regarded as a kind and useful plant. There is little doubt that a thick covering helps to retain the heat of a building while protecting the stonework from the worst of the weather; it also provides a nesting site for birds and places for them to roost at night, but such a coat of ivy does need to be left trimmed to prevent it finding its way into cracks, crevices, roofs and window frames.

And if there is a structural weakness such as a tiny piece of missing mortar, the ivy will find and exploit it.

I like the story of a stubborn ivy plant which, in spite of efforts to stop it, eventually worked its way through a wall of Magdalen college, Oxford and found itself in the wine cellar. Undisturbed over a period of time, it made its way towards a bottle of port and succeeded in penetrating the cork. Having achieved this, it then drank the entire contents and when it was discovered, it had rooted itself inside the bottle.

I'm sure this would be an extremely happy and very healthy ivy plant, but I do not know what happened to it once this adventure had come to an end. I would imagine it would have been banned from visiting the cellar!

In the past, a covering of ivy upon a house was regarded as a sign of good fortune, and when we believed in the power of witches and evil spirits, it was supposed to keep them at bay.

If the ivy suddenly died or fell away from the house, however, this was a sign that the house would shortly have new occupants, or that the present occupants would have to tolerate some bad fortune or illness.

A good, healthy stock of ivy was therefore regarded as a sign of one's enduring good fortune, particularly so far as women were concerned. Ivy is a symbol of feminism and fertility which might explain why in so many old country cottages abound with this plant.

It was also widely used as a cure for a range of ailments. Ivy leaves soaked in vinegar were supposed to cure corns if they were tied over them, and a wreath of ivy leaves worn on the head was considered a wonderful means of preventing hair loss.

If ivy leaves were soaked overnight in cold water, the water was then thought to ease tired and sore eyes and in some areas, cold rashes were also given that treatment while the juice of the leaves was thought to stop a running nose.

Whooping cough was thought to be cured by eating one's food from a bowl made from the wood of a stout ivy trunk, and some thought that wine could be safely kept in such a bowl. In some places, it was though that such a bowl must be made from wood harvested at night when the moon was in a particular phase.

If the ivy seems to have several links with wine, then it was also thought to have the power of separating water from wine if they were mixed in a bowl made of ivy wood, and, of course, one of the signs which hung outside a tavern or vintner's shop was a bush or garland made from ivy. Even since Roman times, this has been the symbol that wine was available from such premises.

Another association with alcohol was utilised by men who wanted to embark upon a heavy drinking session. Before going out on a drinking spree, a man would drink vinegar in which ivy berries had been dissolved, and after his session on the bottle, he would drink water in which the bruised leaves of ivy had been boiled. However, I do not know anyone who has tried this, so I cannot vouch for its credibility.

Ivy differs from other plants in that it flowers in the autumn when the greenish-yellow blooms provide lots of nectar, allowing them to be pollinated by wasps and flies. The black berries then develop and these provide food for the birds during the winter. They are particularly enjoyed as the hard frosts of winter deny other food sources to a variety of birds.

Ivy has other uses too - for example, it is one of those evergreens we bring into the house over the Christmas period. Apparently it keeps goblins at bay.

Moors memories

The name of Frank Megginson will be known to many readers of this column. He was a countryman with a fund of stories and many vivid memories of a past era, and he had a wonderful ability to impart his knowledge with typical rustic humour.

From life on the North York Moors and further afield, and a career which began in the agricultural department of Leeds university followed by a spell as senior livestock officer to the government of Jamaica and then with Silcocks, the animal feed specialists, he retired to Australia.

From there, he would read this column and write long and interesting letters to me, invariably laced with humour but rich with memories of life in the moorland of Yorkshire.

Sadly he died in May, aged 88. In one of his last letters, he told me about life in the nursing home, saying he'd followed a nurse "like a lead mare" as he went about his daily routine.

To keep his mind active in those latter years, he began to write down some of his reminiscences, even learning how to use a computer, and the result of those labours is now a delightful book called Memories or Meanderings of a Country Lad.

Though unfinished, this has been edited and produced by his family, but Frank never saw his book in print. The book is not on sale to the general public, but was produced for family and friends, and I am privileged to have a copy.

It is full of stories like this one: a tall, thin Lancashire lad whose name was Harry Sheepshanks was constantly teased about his height and his name and so, at the age of 18, he changed it - to Ramsbottom. Thanks Frank, for your life and your delightful tales.