So much life has happened, it is a distant memory when the days were still very short
and we had not yet tasted spring.
Getting ready with many eggs and cheese and milk for quiches to honor this time when the sap begins to flow, when traditionally the ewes would lactate and the ice breaks and we would know that the Earth Mother would be renewed.
Figuring out roles so that all works. Who will make and tend the fire, which must be big enough for a group of people and strong enough to keep them warm? Who will prepare the offerings of sacrifice? Who will talk and what shall be said?
So Adhi would make the fire, hauling standing dead trees from the woods and making a loud constant whirr of chain saw while he worked the embers. But it was Bryan that tended the fire and I swept around it, a path in the snow that later would show the earth, mud and grass.
The sweeping of snow, sweeping the land; a never ending job that you feel in your whole body- arms, legs, gut, lungs.
Salad and quiche (even the bad crusted one) and sweets and peaches from the summer and coffee and cyser.
Who all was here- Eizabeth, Ron & Linda, and Judith and Anna and Jasper and us and Ahdi. Missing was Amber and Susan & Gwen and Katrina & family and Unca Magoo and Aunt Lisa. But we had a full table and a lot of laughing and lots more talk.
I had put together offerings and Bryan had too, each brought to the fire circle waiting.
Grains and chips and herbs - spring cleaning of the cupboards.
Bryan offered his rant for the season- stories of Bridget, her lineage, her gifts,
and how we honor her and the order of ritual.
The kids were- as always- restless and sometimes us too. It is hard with groups of people to interact, prepare for ritual, learn what to do, eat and focus on a time. But we do always seem to focus well on the spirits.
Bryan brought Bridget from the shrine and donned his wicker headdress and we processed to the circle; boys stomping and dancing across the threshold; each person finding their place around the fire. There was a bird that flew overhead while we walked and they always seem to speak as we gather, when we settle down or when we listen.
Nice hot flame and warm sun and rushing stream and bright snow. The directions of the sun and the gates of our spring, willow and fire. Let this fire be a good fire.
Glowing embers like the sun and my eyes. Standing centered on the earth- men and women and boys. Crystalline the sun blinded me so that I could only see the fire and smoke.
Blazing greens letting go of the past and of the winter.
Our offerings, our omens, our blessing.
From the Ancestors: Sowelo or the sun
From the Spirits of Nature & Place: Kinaz or the torch
From the Gods & Goddesses: Wunjo or joy
From Bridget and the Season: Jera – year or harvest
(All lovely and appropriate for good fortune, perhaps it is what has kept us as together as we have been through this transition time.)
The waters always so refreshing and enough for all.
Each of us helping each other through Bridget's girdle, ever expanding for all of our sizes. Even for the cat next door. So much light and orange and personalities.
Each of us chose a shimmering crystal, as a remembrance of this frozen time of almost spring.
We quieted down, back in our places around the fire to offer thanks and grounding. We gathered up our things- our empty bowls, cups and leftover offerings and took each other home.
We invited Bridget onto our hearth, in our kitchen overflowing with people and food and glasses and light.
So the after effects were immediate, with more eating and conversations, intense at times, and time flying and groups of people coming and going. Sometimes it is all like a dream, blurred like the smoke.
At the end of the day, with the vast darkness lit by a candle at Bridget’s shrine, I went outside alone to put out the light.
