Passing by

Where did we get to? Hi Fairypoo, where are you?

Wandering on a fairy pad

We meant to go to Sligo town to catch the 7 am train but instsead caught the sunrise over a fairy land where we were taken and led by the thumbs, along a fairy pad . . .

And again.

"There's a lot of weather in March." Wisdom of John Joe McCann, farmer, shopkeeper and school bus driver.

And then, on the eighth day of Spring....

Spring began last Sunday. Officially that is. And it nearly did. There were clear skies on Tuesday and a glowing sunset.

The setting sun shone through the side of the bay window and lit the opposite wall, a sure sign that we are getting close to the spring equinox.

On Wednesday, there was snow on the hills but the sea still looked blue, a nice spring blue.

The Brent geese enjoyed a balmy paddle down on the rocks during low tide.


Then there was today, eighth day of spring.



Winter came back. We can't even see the snow covered mountains.
















Snow everywhere.






So we went for a walk . . .












. . . with Zoe and Tiny . . .


















. . . and helped some boy scouts build a snowman . . .











. . . deep in the woods.

good advice

I've been reading about English poet Wendy Cope. (click title of post to read more about her.) Here's her list of good advice from writers:


"The only end of writing is to enable the readers better to enjoy life or better to endure it." - Samuel Johnson

"His chief desire was to express himself and his own truth - and therefore life and humanity." - Walter de la Mare on Edward Thomas

"Those who write clearly have readers; those who write obscurely have commentators." - Albert Camus

"I give to the world what I have in my heart, and that is the end of it. " - Franz Schubert

Imbolc blessing from Druid Michael R Gorman

Druid and poet Michael R Gorman has sent a Bridget's day blessing that I'll share with all of you here: May Brigit bless you richly, and may the first stirrings of spring foreshadow a growing season of great abundance for you.
Click title to read more about Michael R Gorman.

BRIDGET'S EVE : IMBOLC

SIA BEATHA A BHRÍD

So at last, winter is over. Tomorrow is Imbolc, Bridget's day, first day of spring. The last grey light of the last grey day of winter was fading as we paddled about in waterlogged fields gathering rushes which we wrapped in Pa's red cashmere scarf, the one he doesn't wear because it leaves red fluff on his black crombie, and carried home. Second daughter, as the youngest female in the house, brought the rushes to the front door and knocked, in accordance with old Donegal custom.

"Who's there?"
"Bridget"
"Sia beatha, sia beatha, a Bhríd (hail Bridget). Come in"

Whereupon Bridget entered.

(Note: For meteorologists and suchlike persons who like precise weather detail, you can observe the last grey light of the last grey day of winter waning over grey Donegal Bay, through the front door which is reflected in the mirror)

By some miracle of nature, no matter how severe the winter, rushes are always plump, flexible and long, ready for gathering on Bridget's Eve, but not this year.

For the first time in a lifetime of making Bridget's crosses, I could find only rushes that are short, brittle and weatherbeaten. What does that portend for the coming year, I wonder? Good or ill?




Second daughter has claimed the red scarf which has acquired healing powers today from being used to carry Bridget's rushes. Along with the healing gooseberry spines she brought from the garden today, it will make her into a probationary Wise Woman.



We gave away some crosses and hung one in the kitchen, near the back door. It looks puny because the short rushes can make only small crosses.


I was tempted to leave the crosses uncut to increase their size, see below.

I asked second daughter to take some pictures and just look at how she managed to send lightning streaks down the mirror towards the rushes. Did she do this in her role as Bridget? Or is it a sign that she has received her healing powers? Hmmmmm.......