Observing the art of dressing wells in England

Throwing coins into fountains is widely recognised as a way to bring good luck, but other rituals, such as dressing and blessing wells, remain something of an enigma. Well dressing, once known as well flowering, is the ancient custom of decorating wells and springs with flowers, leaves, berries, nuts, seeds and other natural materials. Still practised in a handful of counties in the English Midlands, including South Yorkshire and East Staffordshire, it has survived most strongly in Derbyshire, where week-long celebrations are held in more than 60 towns and villages from May to September each year.

The origins of well dressing remain shrouded in mystery. One of the first well dressings is believed to date back to 1349 when villagers in Tissington celebrated their escape from the Black Death by blessing the village’s clean water supply. Others think the Romans introduced the custom to Derbyshire, while many associate it with a Celtic ritual to thank, or even appease, the water gods and goddesses.

Walking through Derbyshire’s Peak District National Park, it is as if the gods of old are still smiling down on this bleak yet beautiful landscape of moorland, streams, bogs and limestone outcrops. Filtered through layers of ancient limestone, the mineral rich waters have attracted visitors to the area since mediaeval times when pilgrims came to take the waters. Named Aquae Arnemetiae, which translates as the waters of the goddess of the spring, the modern-day spa town of Buxton was an important Roman settlement. It’s still famous for its spring water today.

Derby days

By the 1950s, the custom of well dressing had almost died out but, thanks to tourism, there has been a revival of interest over the past 30 years. I am travelling with my mother and we are curious to explore this quirky tradition. We stay in the heart of the Peak District, just outside the country town of Bakewell (famous for its delicious tarts made of pastry, eggs, jam and ground almonds), at the Monsal Head Hotel. A cosy family-run hotel with just seven rooms, it commands one of the most prized views in the county.

Looking out from our bedroom’s wooden balcony, we take in the elegant arches of the Monsal Dale aqueduct, once part of the Midland Railway Line, and the gentle flow of the River Wye through the lush, green valley, dotted yellow with buttercups. Dry-stone walls dating back to the 18th century Act of Enclosure, when large fields were divided into smaller lots, still stand, creating a patchwork of unevenly sized fields untouched by industrialised farming.

Monsal Dale is popular with hikers walking the old railway trail, but we take a narrow road along the river to the village of Cressbrook. A string of bunting decorating the cottages in the steep main street heralds it’s Well Dressing Week.

In days of yore, wells were decorated with floral garlands, but nowadays mosaic images are mounted on large wooden boards. We start with the Children’s Well at the top of the village and recognise the brilliantly coloured image as Rainbow Fish, a well-known picture book by Marcus Pfister. An orange-lipped fish with yellow and purple fins and marbles for eyes swims across an ocean floor crafted from pebbles and petals. On the village green stands St Francis, surrounded by animals, with his hands raised in prayer under a lentil-orange sun.

The third dressing is near Cressbrook Hall (historically, only wells and springs used to be dressed, whereas today dressings are situated in the most eye-catching places) and celebrates 50 years of Big Ben, London’s landmark clock in Parliament Square. Tempis Fugit, or “Time Waits for No Man” runs the caption, a fitting reminder that the works of art we are looking at will have withered and died in a week’s time.