Frost woven into the fabric of February covers the land, damp is hanging in the air and bonfire smells waft across the dampness and somehow there is comfort in the smokiness, bringing memories of Sunday roasts and days wrapped in family.
Everything sleeps, curls up underground. The darkness allows a chink of light, extending the days. The branches of the trees are silhouettes that give little shelter to the birds, the trees have quietened in their thoughts, their chain of chatter is hushed between them as they doze until the colours of spring appear in their long fingers. They don’t care about showing off their blossoms, they just want to sleep.
Snowdrops push back up to the surface, tight buds but making their presence known, the first sign that spring is waiting to be sprung.
All lies quiet in this hibernation time; all should know that this is the time to rest and curl up underground. Candlelight, the time of the soul. When the soul wants to recover from what has been a year of turning tides, some waves have been ridden like a horse at the circus, where I have stood in my glittery costume and red sequin boots, queen of the ring, galloping, standing, like Boudica on her chariot. Waves, coming and going, waves that pulled me, pushed me, went straight over my head and tried to take me under to the Sirens world, where they have sharp teeth and long talons and like to threaten and want to rip me apart. I don’t like those times, I’m scared of the dark, when I get taken under the waves.
Although the dark is my friend when I want to hide, in cloak and in company, when we take salt and water to the woods. The dark is our disguise when we greet the time of Imbolc. In the mother the seeds are stirring, don’t come too soon or Jack will bite your off toes. He’s mean like that and likes to claim that he’s fun, sliding and skating through the landscape but if you hang around, he’ll take what he can, a sharp knife he carries to cut off your nose.
The Queen lying under the moss starts to waken. She stretches and yawns a deep yawn; she takes Springs first breath and It’s as if everything sighs and life flows through the veins of every creature and plant.
But, just for now, until the Lion in the sky comes back with its roaring warmth, let your candle stay lit, let your soul rest a bit and let yourself curl up small, snooze and dream, nothing to worry you at all.
Until you wake up!
