The Wesh Fan of Harvest
Long ago, in the green hills between Wales and England, there stood a golden field of wheat. Every summer the stalks swayed and danced in the warm breeze, whispering secrets to one another.Hidden among the waving ears of grain lived a tiny spirit named Awen.Awen was no smaller than a ladybird. She wore a gown woven from wheat silk and a crown of barley beards. Her job was to watch over the crops and help them grow strong and golden.All spring and summer she worked happily."Drink the sunshine," she would tell the wheat. "Stretch toward the sky."By harvest time the fields gleamed like gold.As the farmers began cutting the grain, Awen grew worried.Soon every stalk would be gathered."Where shall I live when the field is gone?" she wondered.An old farmer named Morgan heard the rustling wheat and Aven’s question on the breeze."The spirit of the harvest needs a home," he said.So when only a few stalks remained, he carefully cut them and carried them to his cottage.His daughter, Elen, sat beside the fire and began to braid the straw.She crossed one stem over another.Then another.And another.Slowly, the straw opened like the wings of a bird."It looks like a fan," said Elen."A beautiful fan," said Morgan.When it was finished, they hung it above the cottage door.That night, as the moon shone silver across the hills, Awen drifted inside."A new home!" she cried.She slipped into the woven straw and settled among the golden ears.
From that day onward, the farm’s cattle stayed healthy, the hens laid plenty of eggs, and the garden grew full of flowers.People from nearby farms came to see the wonderful decoration."What is it?" they asked."It is a Welsh Fan," said Elen. "A blessing made from the harvest."Soon families across the border counties began weaving their own fans from the last straw of the harvest.Some hung them above doors.Some placed them near the hearth.Others set them in their barns.Each fan became a warm winter home for the spirit of the grain until spring returned.Then, when new seeds were sown, the spirit would leave the fan and dance back into the fields to help a new crop grow.And if you ever see a straw fan hanging in an old farmhouse, look closely on a moonlit night. You might just spot little Awen, smiling from among the golden wheat, waiting for spring to come again.