Are you a lover of trees, by chance? I am! Here in Southern California, where we are now fully into autumn, many trees are changing colors with the season. My favorite is the California sycamore tree (Platanus racemosa). The wilderness area near our home where I like to walk is heavily wooded with sycamore trees, as well as oak trees. And in the regional park adjacent to the wilderness area, there are many pine and eucalyptus trees. I often pause along my walk to look at their leaves, search for birds nestled in their branches, or simply stand in the shade they provide. Do you have a favorite tree?

Because many trees have folklore associated with them, I started wondering about my favorite tree, the sycamore. Was there any British folklore surrounding it? I discovered that while the sycamore tree is not native to the UK—it is believed to have been introduced by the Romans or during the Tudor era (1500s)—it has played a role in some faerie folklore, as well as in traditional customs and crafts. (Note: The sycamore tree I’ll be referring to in this folklore section is Acer pseudoplatanus, which bears a resemblance to the California sycamore, but is not the same tree.)

Faeries and Sycamore Trees

With respect to faerie folklore, I came across two instances involving the sycamore tree. In the article “The Conjuror in Montgomeryshire” by Dr. W. LL. Davies, he takes a detour from his discussion on conjurers (soothsayers) in order to discuss some other Welsh folklore from the area. He writes:

I have failed to get, locally at any rate, much about the belief in fairies, although one farmer casually told me that sycamore trees near a farm kept away the fairies and prevented them from spoiling the milk.

This seems to suggest that the sycamore was considered to have a protective quality, which doesn’t surprise me. Many trees, including rowan and ash, were believed to serve as protection against faeries or mischievous spirits.

Additionally, I discovered a folktale in Wirt Sikes book, British Goblins: Welsh Folk-lore, Fairy Mythology, Legends and Traditions, which also links the sycamore tree to faeries. The story was told to him by a farmer’s wife, and it’s short enough that I’ve included the entire tale:

Shon ap Shenkin was a young man who lived hard by Pant Shon Shenkin. As he was going afield early one fine summer’s morning he heard a little bird singing, in a most enchanting strain, on a tree close by his path. Allured by the melody he sat down under the tree until the music ceased, when he arose and looked about him. What was his surprise at observing that the tree, which was green and full of life when he sat down, was now withered and barkless! Filled with astonishment he returned to the farmhouse which he had left, as he supposed, a few minutes before; but it also was changed, grown older, and covered with ivy. In the doorway stood an old man whom he had never before seen; he at once asked the old man what he wanted there. ‘What do I want here?’ ejaculated the old man, reddening angrily; ‘that’s a pretty question! Who are you that dare to insult me in my own house?’ ‘In your own house? How is this? where’s my father and mother, whom I left here a few minutes since, whilst I have been listening to the charming music under yon tree, which, when I rose, was withered and leafless?’ ‘Under the tree!—music! what’s your name?’ ‘Shon ap Shenkin.’ ‘Alas, poor Shon, and is this indeed you!’ cried the old man. ‘I often heard my grandfather, your father, speak of you, and long did he bewail your absence. Fruitless inquiries were made for you; but old Catti Maddock of Brechfa said you were under the power of the fairies, and would not be released until the last sap of that sycamore tree would be dried up. Embrace me, my dear uncle, for you are my uncle—embrace your nephew.’ With this the old man extended his arms, but before the two men could embrace, poor Shon ap Shenkin crumbled into dust on the doorstep.

I find it intriguing that the sycamore tree almost acts like an hourglass in this tale, marking time through its sap. While this sycamore did not directly protect Shon ap Shenkin from the faeries—he was trapped by their music for a lengthy time—it did serve as a method for escaping them once its sap had dried up.

Sikes also draws a connection from this story to the birds of Rhiannon, a topic which we explored in a earlier post. The birds of Rhiannon had the ability to spellbind their listeners while time passed. In the tale of Shon ap Shenkin, he thinks he hears birdsong, but “old Catti Maddock of Brechfa” claims that he was under faerie control. The faerie music operates in the same manner as that of the birds of Rhiannon—years pass while he believes only minutes have gone by.

A Sycamore as a Coin-Tree

Sycamores have also been used in tree-related customs in the British Isles. For example, there is a custom of inserting coins into the bark of trees—generally of fallen trees, logs, or stumps. These trees are known as coin-trees. Ceri Houlbrook explains in her article, “The Mutability of Meaning: Contextualizing the Cumbrian Coin-Tree,” that while coin-trees only came into existence in the late nineteenth century, the custom has already evolved quite a bit.

The very first coin-tree (an oak on Isle Maree in Loch Maree within Scotland) was originally associated with healing. This was likely due to the fact that both coins and trees have been considered to be curative. Houlbrook theorizes that as the years passed, a reduction in the demand for folk remedies resulted in a change in the custom. The underlying hope behind the coin offering evolved from desiring cures to making wishes come true. This is also reflected in other names for the coin-tree that have come into use: “wishing-tree” and “good-luck tree.”

While researching, I came across a photograph of a sycamore being used as a coin-tree on the National Library of Ireland’s website. (If you click the thumbnail of the photo on the library’s site, it will enlarge.) It is near the town of Mountrath, Co Laois, Ireland. In trying to learn more information about it, I discovered that Houlbrook also wrote her thesis on the subject of coin-trees (“Coining the Coin-Tree: Contextualising a Contemporary British Custom”), which includes a case study on this particular tree. She explains that coins were driven into this living sycamore for luck and to manifest wishes. Due to the large volume of inserted coins, and visitors “taking pieces of the tree as souvenirs,” the tree decayed and fell in 1994. However, there is now a young sycamore growing in the place of the original tree. Houlbrook describes how the coin-tree tradition continues on with the new tree:

The custom subsequently transferred to a younger replacement. Despite the unfortunate fate of the original Clonenagh tree, and the fact that the information plaque [at the site of the tree] requests visitors to ‘refrain from inserting any metal into the tree’, 92 coins have already been embedded into the young sycamore [as observed in 2012]…

In her writings about coin-trees, Houlbrook observes that they serve as a good example of how folklore, traditions, and folktales can change over time. They are not rooted securely in place, and traditional customs might be reinterpreted as years pass.

Sycamore Wood and British Crafts

In addition to its contribution to faerie folklore and the coin-tree custom, the sycamore tree has also lent its timber to many British crafts. Sycamore wood is hard, strong, and well-suited for carving. It has been used to make kitchenware, furniture, and wooden soles for clogs. In Wales, there is a tradition of carving a lovespoon (often from sycamore wood) to give to a romantic interest. (I wrote about this in an earlier post, which you can read here if you’d like.)

I also discovered that sycamores were used in Cornish May Day celebrations to make whistles. Robert Hunt describes this tradition in his book, Popular Romances of the West of England; or, The Drolls, Traditions, and Superstitions of Old Cornwall:

The branches of the sycamore were especially cut for the purpose of making the “May music.” This was done by cutting a circle through the bark to the wood a few inches from the end of the branch. The bark was wetted and carefully beaten until it was loosened and could be slid off from the wood. The wood was cut angularly at the end, so as to form a mouth-piece, and a slit was made in both the bark and the wood, so that when the bark was replaced a whistle was formed.

From what I could gather, once “a sufficient number of May whistles” were made, then the May Day celebration was truly underway.

The Sycamore Gap Tree

I wanted to conclude with perhaps the most famous sycamore tree in the UK—the Sycamore Gap tree. Planted in the late 1800s next to Hadrian’s Wall in Northumberland, it became a landmark where visitors would share special moments under its leafy branches. It was also featured in the 1991 film, Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves, which starred Kevin Costner. And in 2016, it won the English Tree of the Year award in the Woodland Trust’s competition.

Sadly, though, it was chopped down in an act of vandalism in September 2023. There is a bit of hopeful news, though. The BBC article, “Sycamore Gap tree: The story so far” by Chris Robinson, notes that “new life had sprung from rescued seeds and twigs of the Sycamore Gap tree” and “new shoots have emerged from the stump” offering up hope that the tree will live on in some manner.

I’m so grateful that you’ve taken a moment from your busy day to explore folklore with me. Thank you!

Photo credit (featured image): a lone tree in the middle of a grassy field by Andrew Masters via Unsplash, licensed under the Unsplash License