Pomona’s Children
An intergenerational piece inspired by and delivered in the Hereford Museum of Cider in 2019 as part of the Great Place scheme.
About the work
Created to connect the Bulmer’s Cider Factory employees of old with the local children of today, Pomona’s Children incorporated Feral’s trademark multisensory workshops as access points to connect with the old factory itself and to form the shape of an onsite performance and a day of celebration in the Cider Museum.
How we made it
The workshops connected the generations through fun with blindfolds and apples. The older generation led the blindfolded younger ones through the factory, telling them stories of their time working at the place and leading them to listen, feel and smell each room and the objects within it.
From these sessions and additional research, Estelle created lyrics and worked with the composer Billy to create a ten minute theatrical song which was then filmed and directed.
The lyrics were also printed onto cards that were available in the Cider Museum shop.
Performances
Pomona’s Children ran at The Cider Museum, Hereford in May 2019.
The short film is available on our YouTube channel. Read the lyrics below.
Crew
Direction – Estelle van Warmelo and Rachel Lambert
Design – Rachel Lambert
Lyrics – Estelle van Warmelo
Music – Billy Lambert
Musical Director – Karen Curry
Cast
The erstwhile Bulmers Factory staff and the children of Herefordshire.
In memory of Frank Cleal
Pomona’s Children – The Song
We begin with a single note, sustained as the performers are in preset, frozen. One by one they come to life and begin to animate with a rhythmic movement over the sustain, slowly joining together until…
THEY SING
From the farmer in the orchard
And the tending of the land
From the seed that first was planted
By the first custodian hand
We stretch across the ages,
Tread the orchard to the press
Till the blossom bears the promise
Of the crimson apple’s kiss.
CHORUS
Here come the Angels
In their overalls and boots
We are all Pomona’s Children
From the apple to the roots
The soil breathes out, the fresh tilled ground
In the dewy air of morning
The buried buds of life below
Above, the sun’s arms calling.
As rain sinks, seeps through cushioned earth
The new born shoots are stirring.
The bony roots dig down, dig down
While upwards pushes life.
CHORUS
Here come the Angels
In their overalls and boots
We are all Pomona’s Children
From the apple to the roots
Through the turning of the seasons
And the reaching of the branch
The tumbling of the blossom
On the bitter wind’s demands,
The swelling of the apple
From the foothold of the root
The leaves unfurl, the tree unfolds
To bear the crimson fruit.
CHORUS
Here come the Angels
In their overalls and boots
We are all Pomona’s Children
From the apple to the roots
Come days of golden harvest
In the lowering of the sun
We journey down the old straight track
To Ryelands Street we’re gone.
A flood of ruby apples
Surging through the factory door
From the orchard to the bed press
The waves of ambrosia pour.
Old bed presses, crushing, crushing
Apple’s nectar, flowing, flowing
Into the barrels, pouring, pouring
Yeast for fermenting, turning, turning
(REPEAT AS NECESSARY FOR FULL BUILD)
CHORUS
Here come the Angels
In their overalls and boots
We are all Pomona’s Children
From the apple to the roots
Down the green glass corridors,
The musty cellars’ chill,
Workers sighting ‘on the lines’
As green glass bottles, filled,
Chug by the green glass shelving
And on for wooden crates
Then off onto the trucks and out
As the great wide world awaits.
Then off onto the trucks and out
As the great wide world awaits…
CHORUS
Here come the Angels
In their overalls and boots
We are all Pomona’s Children
From the apple to the roots
Here come the Angels
In their overalls and boots
We are all Pomona’s Children
From the apple to the roots
DROP TO EARLIER RHYTHMIC SECTION IN REVERSE UNTIL, WITH EVERYONE BACK IN THEIR ORIGINAL POSITIONS THE SINGLE NOTE FADES TO SILENCE