Ukrainian embroidery motifs weren’t chosen for looks alone — the earliest ones carried the symbolism of ancient nature cults, and even after centuries wore the original meaning down to something more abstract, the symbolism itself never fully disappeared. Certain trees, in particular, kept turning up again and again. The birch, associated with feminine energy, girlish purity and fertility, was considered sacred enough that pagan priests forbade cutting birch trees in sacred groves, believing a deity lived in their branches; birch sap was thought to heal, and birch branches used in ritual were kept as protection against lightning and hail. The cherry tree carried its own weight as a symbol of spring, beauty and love — in Ukrainian, “вишня” (cherry) shares a root with “Вишній,” one of the old names for the Almighty, and before Christmas trees arrived with Peter the Great, cherry branches forced to bloom indoors for New Year’s were read as a genuine sign of good fortune to come.
Floral motifs run just as deep, and none more than the wreath — a circle “woven” from flowers that stood for Mother Earth herself, blooming, wealth and new life, richly described across Ukrainian folklore and especially in Bukovynian carols. Its clearest expression was at Ivana Kupala, the midsummer festival, when young women wove flower wreaths from a set list of twelve plants — strawflower, yarrow, periwinkle, cranberry, poppy, hops, rose, forget-me-not, marigold, lovage, chamomile and cornflower — each one carrying a specific meaning: periwinkle for eternal life, rose for faith and love, hops for intelligence, poppy for youth and beauty, forget-me-not for good memory, and so on down the list, with yarrow, symbolizing remaining undefeated, given the most honored place of all.
Periwinkle in particular threads through an unusual number of Ukrainian customs. Because its leaves reach toward all four points of the compass, it was sometimes called a “cruciform herb,” a symbol both of enduring youth and of the unity between the living and their ancestors — periwinkle in bloom meant love, periwinkle on a grave meant remembrance. Brides carried periwinkle wreaths to invite wedding guests, then kept them for their firstborn’s cradle; some even picked their wedding periwinkle from the grave of a respected deceased relative, believing it would anchor the marriage’s love as firmly as that memory. Periwinkle motifs still show up embroidered on wedding rushnyky and the shyryn’ka — the kerchief a bride gifted her groom as her answer to his proposal — carrying that same symbolism forward in thread, long after the flowers themselves have wilted.
