From the Land of Fire and Ice Margie Senechal

The Wilkinson Sisters, 1970

Last year, on Window Over the Sink, I wrote about Iceland’s Jolabokaflod, more commonly known as Iceland’s book flood on Christmas Eve. Somewhere in there I mentioned the Yule Lads and readers wanted to know more about them. So, that’s what I’m giving you this time.

My dad was stationed on the Icelandic Naval Base when I was seven and we lived there for two and half years. I celebrated two Christmases there—probably my most memorable. While we lived on the base, we were able to partake of local traditions as well as our own. The scent of Cardamom--as it's baked in their Icelandic Christmas cake--in the air still makes me think of Christmas and gives me an inner glow for the holidays.

 

When you’re a kid, Christmas can be a magical time and when you live in a land that still believes in elves, it’s even better.

 

Somewhere in my garage, I have the Navy paper informing our parents of the Yule Lads and for some reason, it only listed nine of the thirteen. I wonder if the earlier days coincided with another holiday?

 

To paraphrase the Icelandic tradition as I heard it—There are thirteen Yule lads who live in a cave with their witch mother, Gryla, her husband, and horrible cat. The Lads have Icelandic names that I couldn’t begin to pronounce, but we called them our own English variations. On the nine (or thirteen) days before Christmas, children will be visited by one of the lads and if you’re good, you’ll get a treat left in the shoe you’ve put in the window. And if you’re bad, they’ll knock it out the window. I’m not sure if we were supposed to leave our windows open during Iceland’s harsh winters.

 

My shoe was golden, elfin slipper. I remember it was quite ornate (which is exactly what my 7-year-old self thought). For the most part, if we were good, we got a piece of candy, maybe a small toy (jacks or marbles), or if really lucky, a golden Icelandic Kronur.

 

Our Yule lad tour began with Spoon Licker. His name like his brothers, is pretty much self-explanatory. He was followed by Pot Scraper, Bowl Licker, Door Slammer, Skyr Lover, Sausage Thief, Window Peeker, Door Sniffer, Meat Hook, and Candle Begger. If you look them up on Google, you find slightly different names for some of them, I’m just telling you what I knew them as.

 

We were most afraid of Window Peeker. There was one instance when we were having dinner and my younger sister, Debbie, refused to eat her peas. She was six and I was eight. Our youngest sister, Wendy, was nine months. Mom told Debbie that it was Window Peeker night.

 

Debbie went into a six-year-old full throttle panic at the thought she might have her golden slipper tossed out the window. She asked Dad if he wanted her peas, then Mom, Me, and finally, “Give them to the baby. Wendy can eat them.”

 

To this day, I wonder if it was really Window Peeker’s night to visit. I somehow doubt it.

 

On Christmas eve, we were to leave a candle in our shoe for Candle Begger. The candles he collected lit their cave for the year. I think we donated votives to the cause. I’m not sure how helpful those would be in a cave.

 

If you look them up online, you’re find some pretty gnarly images, especially of Gryla and her husband. You’ll also read that Gryla was a troll, but I always believed she was a witch. Maybe a troll witch?  I never thought of them as scary, but then I always ate my dinner. The picture I’ve selected show more what I pictured them as for all these years. But do look them up if you wish to learn more.

 

Merriest of Holidays to you all!

 

Margie Senechal is writer of Women’s fiction and romance with a slice of Magical Realism. She had a short story published in Once Upon a Book Club’s 2020 Advent Book. She lives in the PNW where she’ll probably get a wet Christmas, not a white one.

Margie