LEGENDS- Perfect to use in crafting and Scrapbooking

Spanish Moss Legend

Christmas Tree Legend

Candy Cane Legend

Poinsettia Legend

BirdNest Legend

Sand Dollar Legend

Dogwood Legend

Cherokee Rose Legend

Five Kernels Legend

Tinsel Legend

Cat Legend

Rosemary Legend

Pine Tree Legend

Stork Legend

Holly Legend

Robin Legend

Sage Plant Legend

Christmas Spider Legend

Myrtle Tree Legend

Legend of the Christmas Nail

Legend of the Christmas Pickle

Legend of the Acorn

Legend of the Silver Pinecone

Retype in calligraphy and frame. Use as Christmas ornamnets and put in cute bags and scroll the legend.

Legend of the Spanish Moss

There's an old legend,that's whispered by Southern folks,
About the lacy Spanish moss that garlands the great oaks-
A lovely princess and her love,upon their wedding day
Were struck-down by a savage foe admist a bitter fray;
United in death they were buried,so the legends go,
'Neath an oak's strong,friendly arms,protected from their foe;
There as was the custom,they cut the bride's long hair with love
And hung its shining blackness on the spreading oak above;
Untouched,undisturbed it hung there for all the world to see
And with the years the locks turned gray and spread from tree to tree.

Legend of the Christmas Tree
   There is a legend that comes down to us from the early days of Christianity in England. One of those helping to spread Christianity among the Druids was a monk named Wilford.
   One day, surronded by a group of his converts, he struck down a huge oak tree, which, in the Druid religion, was an object of worship. As it feel to earth, the oak tree split into four peices and four pieces and from its center sprung up a fir tree.
   Wilford turned to,"This little tree shall be your Holy Tree tonight."It is wood of peace,for your houses are built of fir.It's the sign of an endless life,for its leaves are evergreen.See how it points toward the heavens?Let this be called the tree of the Christ Child.Gather about it,not in the wilderness,but in your homes.There it will be surrounded with loving gifts and rites of kindness.

Legend of the Candy Cane
It had to be special to be a gift for the King of Kings,thought the humble candy maker.Not just any piece of candy would do.It had to be hard candy because the church is built on solid rockand God's promises are a firm foundation.
It would be formed in the shape of the Good Shepherd's staff. A "J" that would also stand for the precious name Jesus. But it had to say more.White stripes would symbolize the virgin birth and sinless nature of Christ.
Three small red stripes would represent the scourging Jesus suffered on his way to the cross.One large red stripe would remind those with eyes to see and ears to hear of the blood Jesus shed  as payment for our sins.
It would be a gift of love that would tell His story-the greatest story ever told.

Legend of the Poinsettia

It once was the custom in Mexico for the villagers to leave a gift for the Baby Jesus in their church on Christmas Eve. In one small village,a little boy who had no gift to bring prayed to God for a way to show his love for the Infant King.God,in His mercy,looked down on the boy and answered his earnest prayer.By causing a flower to bloom where he knelt-a flower so brilliant and fair.The miraculous flower was formed like a star with leaves that were red and so bright. And the boy's precious gift has come to be known as the "Flower of the Holy Night".

Legend of the Bird Nest

According to an old German legend, if you find a bird nest in the tree you harvest for Christmas, you will have an entire year of health and happiness.
We hope you will tuck this nest in one of the branches of your tree with all the best wishes of the old legend.

Legend of the Sand Dollar
Upon this odd shaped seashell a legend grand is told about the life of Jesus the wonderous tale of old The center marking plainly shows the well know "Guiding Stars" That led to tiny Bethlehem the Wise Men from afar The Christmas flower, Poinsettia for his Nativity The Resurrection too is marked the Easter Lily, see Five wounds were suffered by our Lord from nails and Roman's spear When he died for us on the cross THe wounds show plainly here Within the shell, should it be broke five Doves of Peace are found To emphasize this legend

Legend of the Dogwood
There is a legend, that at the time of the Crucifixion the dogwood had been the size of the oak and other forest trees. So firm and strong was the tree that it was chosen as the timber for the cross. To be used thus for such a cruel purpose greatly distressed the tree, and Jesus, nailed upon it, sensed this, and in his suffering said to it: Because of your regret and pity for My suffering, never again shall the dogwood tree grow large enough to be used a a cross. Henceforth it shall be slender and bent and twisted and its blossoms shall be in the form of a cross...two long and two short petals. And in the center of the outer edge of each petal there will be nail prints, brown with rust and stained with red, and in the center of the flower will be a crown of thorns, and all who see it will remember.

Legend of the Cherokee Rose

When gold was found in Georgia, the government forgot its treaties and drove the Cherokees to Oklahoma. One fourth of them died on the journey west. But God, looking down from heaven, decided to commemorate the brave Cherokees and so, as the blood of the braves and the tears of the maidens dropped to the ground, he turned them into stone in the shape of a Cherokee Rose.

This is why they are so plentiful in Oklahoma, the end of the Trail of Tears.

The Legend Of The Five Kernels
   The first winter the Pilgrims spent in their new home was very cold. Food was in short supply. Some days they only had enough food for each person to have five kernels of corn for the day. But spring came. They planted food. It grew. And all the Pilgrims did not die. From then on, when a time of Thanksgiving came around, the pilgrims put five kernels of corn on each plate and used them to remind themselves of their blessings.

The first kernel reminds us of the autumn beauty around us.

The second kernel reminds us of our love for each other.

The third kernel reminds us of God's love and care for us.

The fourth kernel reminds us of our friends-especially our Indian brothers.

The fifth kernel reminds us we are free people.
Legend of Tinsel

Mary and Jesus were leaving the city to hide from King Herod.They grew very tired so they stopped in a cave to rest. The soldiers came by but did not look into the cave because it was covered in cobwebs.That night as they slept a spider had covered the entrance to the cave to keep them safe. When Mary and Jesus awoke the cobwebs shimmered in the morning sun and they new God had kept them safe. So when you see Tinsel on a tree it symbolizes the spiders web that saved Mary and Jesus.
The Legend Of The Cat

At midnight's stroke,
On the first Christmas, half the world awoke.
Then out of nest and lair
Came thronging to Bethlehem the wordless folk;
Hurried the beasts of the forest, the birds of the air,
To pay the Lord their homage and His due.

And Cat came, too,
Mincing on delicate feet to see the Child.
But being shy and wild,
Approached no nearer than the hearth; lay dumb
And distant there.
While the rest knelt in praise,
The Cat by too much glory overcome
Could not withdraw her gaze
From the Nativity; could only stare
Through slitted eyes as things of fur and feather
(The deer beside the lion, the pheasant, the hare
Safe in the fox's paws) bent down together.
Although their anthems lifted all around,
She, in her throat, made only a trembling sound
And could not bow her head.

Yet as the morning dawned
And one by one the other creatures fled
Each to his habitat--
The eagle to his crag and to his pond
The otter--only Cat
Remained beside the dying fire, unable
To quit the place that was both Crib and Stable.

Then Mary spoke aloud.
"Dear Cat," she said, "dear, stiff-necked, proud
And obstinate beast, I bless you. From this hour
Leave wilderness behind you.
Because you stayed, though none shall have the power
To call you servant, yet the hearth shall bind you
Forever to itself. Both fond and free,
Wherever Man is, you shall also be.
And many a family
Will smile to hear you singing (where you settle)
Household hosannahs like a pulsing kettle."

Some winter night
Observe Cat now. Her eyes will suddenly gleam
Yellow against the light,
Her body shudder in a jungle dream,
Her claws unsheath their sharpness. She remembers
Old times, old barbarous customs, old Decembers
Before she called the tribes of Man her friends.
But the dream ends.
Then, reassured, she curls herself along
The floor and hums her cool, domestic song.

The Legend Of The Rosemary

Rosemary, lily, lilac tree,
Kind in the dooryards thrive all three,
But kindest of them is rosemary.

When Mary rode to Egypt
Who bore the Christmas King,
Flowers along the wayside
Began their blossoming.

To fill His path with fragrances
The lilac lifted up
Her proud and plumy branches,
The lily spread her cup,

And only the green rosemary,
Born petal-less and mild,
Grieved that it owned no benison
Of sweetness for the Child.

The evening fell in perfume,
In perfume rose the day.
Said Mary, "Out of weariness
We'll make a moments stay."

"Beside this running river,
Here where the willows lean,
I"ll set the Baby sleeping
And wash His garments clean."

But when the clothes were wholesomer,
Where could she hang them all?
"The lily breaks beneath them,
The lilac stands too tall."

So on the trembling rosemary
She laid them one by one,
And strong the rosemary held them
All morning in the sun.

"I thank you, gentle rosemary.
Hence forward you shall bear
Blue clusters for remembrance
Of this blue cloak I wear,

And not your blossoms only,
I give you as reward,
But where His raiment clung to you
Which clad the little Lord,"

"All shall be aromatic,"
Said Mary, "for I bless
Leaf, stem, and flower
That from this hour
Shall smell of holiness."

Rosemary, lily, lilac tree,
Sweet in the doorways thrive all three,
But sweetest of them is rosemary.

The Legend Of THe Pine Tree

The pine was mortal, once, like other trees
That lift their boughs in the air,
Wearing in summer its green fripperies.
In winter going bare
And desolate of birds.
But that was in an old, forgotten age
Before the words
Of Wise Men stung King Herod to such rage
That his loud armies went
About the land to slay the Innocent.

Then there was consternation and no joy
In Israel. Joseph and Mary, Flying
Into another country with the Boy
Came when the day was dying,
Houseless to the edge of a green wood
Where valorously stood
A needled pine that every summer gave
Small birds a nest.
And half its trunk was hollow as a cave.
Said Joseph, "This is refuge. Let us rest."

The pine tree, full of pity, dropped its vast
Protective branches down
To cover them until the troops rode past,
Their weapons jingling, toward a different town.

All night it hid them. When the morning broke,
The Child awoke
And blessed the pine, His steadfast lodging place.
"Let you and your brave race,
Who made yourself My rampart and My screen
Keep summer always and be ever green.
For you the punctual seasons shall not vary,
But let there throng
A thousand birds to you for sanctuary
All winter long."

The story tells us, too,
That if you cut a pine cone part way through,
You find it bears within it like a brand
The imprint of His hand.

The Legend Of The Stork

When Christ was born on Christmas Day
The birds and the beasts knelt down to pray.
In wonder all,
Adoring kneeled--
The ox in his stall,
The fox in the field,
While badger and bear and each wild thing
Flocked round the manger where slept a King
Housed in a stable at Bethlehem.
And the long-legged stork was there with them,
With her feathers white,
Her crest held high,
And awe in her bright,
Compassionate eye.
"Alas," mourned she, "how poor His bed
Who rules the universe overhead!"
"Though cozily curled
Sleep all my breed,
The Lord of the World
Lies hard, indeed."
"Unpillowed is He who should wear a crown."
Then out of her bossom she plucked the down.
The plumes from her brest
She tugged and tore
That the Child should rest
Like a beggar no more
But fine on a pallet fit for a prince.
And Blest has the stork been, ever since--
For the gift that she gave of her body's wear,
Blest on chimneys, blest in the air,
And patron of babies everywhere.

The Legend Of The Holly

The holly berry that burns so red
(Raise high the holly!)
Once was whiter than wheaten bread
(As love is better than folly.)

Whiter than shells along the shore
It blooms on its tree by a stable door.

Villagers come there, half-afraid,
Gifts in their hands for Child and Maid.

And one has nothing of note, so he
Fetches a branch of the holly tree.

Alas, alas, the little Newborn
Has pricked His finger upon a thorn,

Has left His blood on the spiny leaves.
Heavy of heart the holly grieves,

Sees in a terrible vision how
A crown of holly shall bind His brow
When Child is man.

For sorrow and shame
The berries have blushed as red as flame.
Says Mary the Mother,
"Take no blame.

"But be of good cheer as ever you can.
Both foul and fair are the works of man,

"Yet unto man has My Son been lent.
And you, dear tree, are the innocent

"Who weeps for pity what man might do.
So all your thorns are forgiven you."

Now red, rejoicing, the berries shine
On jubilant doors as a Christmas sign

That desolation to joy makes way.
(Hang high the holly!)
Holly is the symbol of Christ's Birthday.
(When love shall vanquish folly.)

The Legend Of The Robin

Long ago, long ago,
When times were stranger,
Once a Lady and her Son
Resyed in a manger,

In a manger on the straw.
The night was shrewd, the wind was raw,

And the dull fire, untended, kept
No comfort where the Infant slept.

Then she, too spent to mend the spark,
Spoke to the beast-enfolding dark.

"Oxen, lest He should come to harm,
Rise up and blow these embers warm

With youe great breath, for mercy's sake."
But the rapt oxen did not wake.

"Ass, will you breathe upon the flame?"
But the ass dozed nor heard his name,

While heavy the cart horse dreamed beside
His feeding box that Christmastide.

Then suddenly the midnight stirred.
In from the winter at her word
There flew a brown, south-seeking bird.

Bravest of small created things,
He made a bellows of his wings.

He puffed his feathers to a fan,
Singing, until the ash began

To kindle, to glow, to burn its best.
The flame leaped out. It seared his breast,

But still the robin, loud with praise,
Beat his quick wings before the blaze

So all the stable was beguiled
To warmth. And softly slept the Child.

"Dear robin," then the Lady said,
"Wear from now on a breast of red.

Where the fire was, let fire remain,
A blessed and perpetual stain

Burnt on your heart that all may see
The signature of Charity."

Long ago, long ago
When times were stranger
Once a robin served the Lord

Who rested in a manger.

The Legend Of The Sage Plant

While the savage and bloodthirsty butchers of King Herod scoured the countryside around Bethlehem, cutting the throats of little children, Mary fled through the mountains of Judea, clutching her new-born tightly against her trembling heart. Seeing a village, Joseph ran ahead to ask for hospitality or even just a little water to bathe the little one. Alas, the nature of the people of this sad country was such that no one was prepared to offer anything, not water, shelter, not even a kind word.

Now while the poor mother was alone, seated by the side of the road nursing the child, her husband took the donkey to drink from a communal well. What did she hear but shouts getting closer as the ground shook under the hooves of approaching horses.

Herod's soldiers !

Where to hide ? Not the slightest cave nor the smallest palm tree was to be seen. The only thing close to Mary was a bush where a rose was beginning to bloom.

"Rose, beautiful rose, begged the poor mother, open out all your petals and hide this infant whom they want to kill and his half-dead mother."

The rose, wrinkling the pointed button which served as its nose, replied:

"Get on your way quickly, young woman, because the butchers could brush by me and blemish me. Go see the clove close by. Tell her to shelter you. She has enough flowers to conceal you."

"Clove, pretty clove, begged the fugitive, spread out so that your mass will hide this child condemned to death and his exhausted mother."

The clove shook the little heads of her flowers and refused without even explaining why:

"On your way, you poor wretch. I don't even have time to listen to you. I am too busy putting out blooms all over. Go see the sage plant close by. She has nothing better to do than dispense charity."

"Ah ! Sage, good sage, begged the unhappy woman, spread your leaves to hide this innocent whose life is in such danger and his mother who is half-dead with hunger, fatigue and fear."

The sage plant then blossomed so abundantly that it covered all the earth and its velvety leaves created a canopy under which the God-child and His mother sheltered.

On the road, the butchers passed by without seeing a thing. At the sound of their steps, Mary shivered in terror but the baby, caressed by the leaves, smiled. Then, as suddenly as they had come, the soldiers were gone.

When they had gone, Mary and Jesus came out from their green and flower-bedecked refuge.

" Sage, holy sage, many thanks. I bless you for your good deed which everyone will henceforth remember."

When Joseph found them, he had a hard time keeping up with the donkey which had been restored by a huge plateful of barley which a decent man had given him.

Mary remounted the animal, hugging her saved child to her. And Michael, the Archangel of God, descended from the realms of Heaven to keep them company and show them the shortest way they could journey in easy stages to Egypt.

Since that time the rose has had thorns, the clove ill-smelling flowers, while the sage plant possesses many curative powers:

As the Provencal saying goes:

Whosoever uses not sage
Remembers not the Virgin.

Legend of the Christmas Spider

Along time ago in Germany a mother was busily cleaning for Christmas. The spiders fled upstairs to the attic to escape the broom. When the house became quiet the spiders slowly crept downstairs to peek. Oh what a beautiful tree! In their excitement they scurried up the trunk and out along each branch. They were filled with happiness as they climbed amongst the glittering beauty. But alas! By the time they were through climbing, the tree was completely shrouded in their dusty grey spider web. When Santa Claus came with the gifts for the children and saw the tree covered with spider webs, he smiled as he saw how happy the spiders were, but knew how heartbroken the mother would be if she saw the tree covered with dusty webs. So he turned the webs into silver and gold. The tree sparkled and shimmered and was even more beautiful than before. That's why we have tinsel on our trees and every tree should have a Christmas spider in it's branches.

Myrtle Tree Legend

Instead of the thorn shall come up the fir tree,
and instead of the brier shall come up the Myrtle tree;
and it shall be to the Lord for a name,
for an everlasting sign shall not be cut off.
ISAIAH 55:13

Legend of the Christmas Nail

It is to hung on a sturdy branch, a branch near the trunk, a branch that will hold such a spike without being noticed by well-wishers dropping by to admire one's tinseled tree. The nail is known only to the home that hangs it, understood only by the heart that knows its significance. It is hung with the thought: The Christmas tree but foreshadows the Christ tree which only He could decorate for us by offering us salvation through His crucifiction.

Legend of the Christmas Pickle
The Medieval tale of the pickle tell of two Spanish boys traveling home from boarding school for the holidays. Weary from travel, they stop at an inn for the night. The inn keeper, a mean and evil man, steals the boys' possessions, and stuffs the boys into a pickle barrel. That evening, St. Nicholas stops in for a rest at the inn, and becomes aware of the boys' plight. He taps the pickle barrel with his staff, and the boys are magically restored. The boys thank St. Nicholas, and continue happily home for Christmas. Through time, this Victorian tradition has been celebrated by hiding a Hand blown glass pickle on the Christmas tree, and whoever finds it on Christmas morning receives a special gift.

Legend of the Acorn

Acorns have thought to bring good luck in Germany, where oak trees are considered sacred.The German saying"from little acorns come mighty oaks" shows the protective nature of a mother's belief that when one provides a nurturing and care, one can anticipate great results. Acorns are also believed by the Germans to represent the rebirth of life as witnessed through the coming of Jesus Christ. Early German Christmas Trees were covered in acorns to commemorate this gift of life and luck.

Legend of the Silver Pinecone

There once was a poor family with very little food or wood to keep them warm. The mother decided to go into the woods and gather pinecones to sell for food and some to keep them warm. When she picked up her first cone she heard a voice say,"Why are you taking my pinecones?"It was an elf the woman explained the whole sad story. With a smile the elf told her to go to the next forest ,there she would find much better pinecones. Off she went and when she had reached the forest she was very tired.She sat her basket down and pinecones began falling to the ground.She gathered them up returned home and when she sat the basket down every pinecone had turned into silver. So to this day always keep a pinecone on your hearth for legend has it, a silver pinecone will bring good fortune your way.

The Legend of St.Patrick

St.Patrick was a man of God
Who came to Erin's land
With a loving prayer within his heart,
A shamrock in his hand
He used the three-leafed shamrock
To help all his people see
How there could be three persons
In the Holy Trinity
And the faith the Irish learned from him
Today can still be found
A heritage as lovely
As the countryside around.

The Legend of St.Valentine

Long ago, a holy man, whose name was Valentine,
grew a flower garden with sights and scents divine.
He invited all the children to come there every day,
to frolic in the flowers, to skip and sing and play.
One day this kindly man was led away to prison
for believing in the Savior who had died for us and risen.
Saddened, all the children wished to send their love,
and so they sent a message carried by a dove ...
"To Our Dearest Valentine," the message was addressed,
and with it they sent violets-of all flowers, the most blessed.
They sent him many love notes till his life was sacrificed
for refusing to deny his belief in Jesus Christ.
Today, he tends a garden in heaven up above-
we know him as St. Valentine, the patron saint of love.
We celebrate our love on his feast day every year
by sending cards and flowers to those our hearts hold dear.
As we honor Valentine's Day, we are reminded of its start-
by the man who gave the Lord his love, his life, his heart.
~~author unknown to me~~