Saturday, 30 January 2010

What does Imbolc mean to you?

Silver Snow Drops

Hi Celtic Yearites

Only 2 (or is it 6???) days 'til Imbolc, a Fire Festival when we banish winter and welcome spring - the old ones were wise - giving us reasons to celebrate at the dreek time of year! Today it is alternatively snowing, hailing and sleeting all washed down with lashings of freezing rain. Just the weather for curling up with a hot computer and thinking about Imbolc and I can see the first shoots in the garden - broad beans, onions and my favourite first flower - the snowdrop.

Imbolc is Brigid's day, the light bringer, the young maiden of spring, the exalted one, a woman of wisdom. She is the goddess of protection, healing, poetry and divination.Brigid is the maiden goddess of the hearth, marriage, healing, poetry, smithcraft and plenty. She is also reknown for weaving, dying and brewing. There have been many manifestations or assimilations of Brigid in different cultures through the years and there are so many legends about her. Lots of information on line, try - plenty of other sites as well of course!

According to this (delightful I thought) Home Educators' site:-
Imbolc translates as "in the belly" and talks about the seeds stirring in the soil and the lactation of ewes (love it- great title for a movie). There are recipes full of green shoots, honey, milk and bread - traditional Imbolc foods, simple ways to mark the day and even weather predictions!

Imbolc Colors: White, Silver, and Pale Yellow

Well I hope this has provided some inspiration for a piece from your differing disciplines for the Celtic Year blog -send them to

Lit a fire my friends and burn the Yule greens to send winter on its way.

Love and light


A New Light

Snow has passed, revealing forgotten

Stark grey sky,

Dull browns that crowd the spirit.

Russet orange life teases tree fingers

Iridescent green lichens decorate exposed boughs

Earth damp air lays heavy, odorous

Yet collared doves rejoice,

Sleek now,

Flutter dancing

Amidst lofty branches,

Beckoning spring


Imbolc 2010

a bit early but here is 'pink flags in a winter garden'
completed today after looking at the garden with is latest light covering of snow


Friday, 22 January 2010

Greetings from Fi

Happy new decade to you and all the celtic projectors :-)

Am afraid to say that I've lost internet connection at home - boo hoo - haven't had the web since 22nd December, looks like it's going to be a while longer too.

Hope all goes well with the Imbolc festival contributions. Speak when I have regular net access.


Monday, 18 January 2010

Leicester Green Man

Sheila's photo of this beautiful Green Man carving in Leicester.

Happy New Words from Roger

First day clear of snow in the Forest of Dean and from the upstairs of a bus ploughing through to Gloucester, the world looks a brighter colour........

Saturday 2 weeks into January
and only now does it seem
like the year is beginning

Nature has steered these 14 days
its temperatures, its weather,
its sloth on our ambition
its taste and beauty, challenge and uncertainty.

From this bus everything looks clean and fresh.
the grass has sprung verdantly
sky looks unsure, as if a
world of snow could still be produced at will, plain paper white.

so different public transport-the atmosphere, people you don't meet otherwise-what you hear and up front upstairs the view of another world...
close to my ear-he leans forward so I can hear softly "going to ask Shirley to get engaged-yeh..see you later Shane yeh..ok"


Sunday, 10 January 2010

Liz's Winter Poem


Light gleans eerily across diamond snow

Collecting refracted star bursts

Crystals form ice queen palaces

Her warm breath, an exquisite death.

Lone swan searches biting river

Outstretched neck desperate with loss

Salmon breasted chaffinch lands heavily

Snow plumps groundward, revealing season's green

Matchstick trees spread blackened fingers skyward

In ominous hope, trunks planted in sugar dust for consistency

Nature's pregant pause hangs heavy

As winter rests a new fools blanket.

Friday, 8 January 2010

Yule 2009

A Yule Dream Remembered 2009

Last night I dreamt that I awoke
And watched the sunrise red and gold
Icicles shimmered but did not drip
Snow covered the fields the forest
All was still and crisp

The Lodge stirred with life
A Royal Yule hunt was afoot
Abigail helped my dressing
Broke my fast on bread with cheese
Drank deeply of strong hot mead

Hounds gave voice and fed
Then readied for the chase
Horses saddled and steadied
Straining and pulling at the bit
The bitter air was ripe and rich

Alexander appeared and mounted
A stallion white and true
He signalled the start
Loud horns and trumpets blew
And away they raced by horse or foot

The party vanished from view
And we excitedly withdrew
Or rather the scene shifted
As in dreams they do
To the hot heart where cauldrons brew

Roasting steaming baking
Turning glazing basting
Ales mead foreign wines
Nuts and berries golden pies
Fit to feed the Royal horde

Then once more a sideways skew
A hall filled with smoke and fire
Laughter ringing goblets’ chatter
Tables laden trestles bowing
Lords and ladies scraping sowing

Storyteller juggling
Harps flutes drums all dancing
Sorrow speeches praises given
Heroes lauded handed honours
All endeavours by song saluted

That night I dreamt that I awoke
And watched the sunrise red and gold
Icicles shimmered but did not drip
Snow covered the cars and houses
All was still and crisp

love and light