#mid-winter

Midwinter. (NOT the "first day of winter")

Moss is carpeting the ground, the fog is barely lifting, and I’m picking oranges by the bucket-full. Spring has come to California, and with it Imbolc right around the corner. Translating to ‘ewes milk’ and traditionally the start of the milking season and return of the light; Imbolc is La Feill Brid, or Saint Bride’s Day. In Scotland it was hoped that February would come in with the head of a serpent and out with its tail, harsh weather at the start of the month when An Cailleach would rage, and mild at the end when Bride won and winter ended. Much like with a certain groundhog it was believed that if February 1st was a fair day, then the Cailleach was sleeping and winter would drag on. Out here in sunny California I’d be lucky to get much more than a mild rain, but I still plan to honour Bride and take in the chilly air.

When dampening the evening fire, one of the last this year, I’ll give a prayer to Bride from the Carmina Gadelica.

An Tri numh              The sacred Three

A chumhnadh,           To save,

A chomhnadh,           To shield,

A chomraig                 To surround

An tula,                       The hearth,

An taighe,                   The house,

An teaghlaich,             The household,

An oidhche,                This eve,

An nochd,                    This night,

O! an oidhche,             Oh! this eve,

An nochd,                     This night,

Agus gach oidhche,      And every night,

Gach aon oidhche.        Each single night.

Amen.                            Amen.

On Imbolc evening I’ll light a candle for my ancestors and give them an herb bread, milk, and honey. After I’ll carve a beeswax candle with a serpent and wrap it in a snakeskin, which I’ll light as I meditate on the gestation of the earth and the year to come. Once I’ve sat for a bit I’ll light a few more candles around the house and talk to my ancestors about my plans for spring. When the house is lit I’ll take the snake candle outside as an offering to the land spirits. That night I’ll leave a pen and knitting needles on Bride’s altar for her to bless, and my drop spindle and a bowl of fresh water for the Gyre Carlin (she doesn’t like to be left out and has a nasty temper).

A Secular Witch’s Guide to the Sabbats: Imbolc

February 2nd marks the pagan fire festival of Imbolc, a day that marks the coming of spring and honours the peace and quiet of winter. It’s a holiday celebrating rebirth, spring, inspiration, and purification. Rituals to the goddess Brighid, a irish goddess of fire and hearth who presided over poetry and music, healing and magic. Because of its proximity to the Christian Candlemas it’s often…

Smorgasbord Blog Magazine – Podcast #Poetry #Podcast – Mid-Winter, Snow, Ice Summits, Buried in the Snow by Sally Cronin

Today some more poetry and flash fiction from one of my collections.   Sally Cronin – Smorgasbord Blog Magazine · Smorgasbord Poetry And Flash Fiction Midwinter Snow Ice Summits And Buried In The Snow   Mid-Winter Chill winds blow full of vice from arctic lands. Laughing they funnel their energies to find any cracks in your shelter. Time to batten down your hatches and to don your fleecy…

Smorgasbord Blog Magazine – Podcast #Poetry #Podcast – Mid-Winter, Snow, Ice Summits, Buried in the Snow by Sally Cronin

Today some more poetry and flash fiction from one of my collections.   Sally Cronin – Smorgasbord Blog Magazine · Smorgasbord Poetry And Flash Fiction Midwinter Snow Ice Summits And Buried In The Snow   Mid-Winter Chill winds blow full of vice from arctic lands. Laughing they funnel their energies to find any cracks in your shelter. Time to batten down your hatches and to don your fleecy…