During my winter rambles around the garden and through the lanes at this time of the year, I’m on the lookout for those very first “stars of the ground”; snowdrops. As the push through the dark, cold soil, they shine like fairy lights, bringing little glimmers of hope and expectation. As I walk, this comes to me;
IMBOLC
White ribbons in the breeze,
Snowdrops beneath the trees
Bridget’s welcome we await
The land regenerates
The days spread out more light
The sun is higher and bright
Bridies youth and passion spark
The song of wren and lark.
The sap begins to rise
First shoots burst in surprise
And the maiden’s green adorns
The land she will transform
New lambs are filled with glee
Catkins drape every tree
Early birds are chorusing
As Brige invokes the spring
Imbolc Imbolc!
The goddess spreads her mantle wide
Brigantia has returned. Nina Milton
It is a great idea to hold or attending, an Imbolc ceremony to celebrate the beginning of spring. This is a “hearth ritual”, usually held in the warmth of someone’s living space, but if it’s a nice day, it often feels good to be outdoors enjoying every little bit of sunshine. Either way, a ritual, even a tiny one, will lift the spirits quicker than anything.
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| Bridget's Cross |
Bridget was a saint, but prior to that she was a Celtic goddess of the Irish Pantheon – daughter of the great Dahgda. She is both gentle maiden and Queen of the South, Lady of the forge, goddess of fire, the year’s midwife who births the sun. She is also the Lady of the Well and goddess of healing water. She is Lady of the Bards, goddess of poetry, song and inspiration and goddess of the hearth, so it stands to reason she would have many names; Bridghid, Bridie, Bride, as well ad Bridget.
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| snowdrops |
But that is what Imbolc is all about. The Iron Age Celts were as keen to see things warm up as we are. They called it the greening of the land – the spreading of Bridget's green mantle across the earth, and that is already happening, right now, beneath our feet. When we talk about spring in this way, we aren't talking about the weather. February is well known to prone to snow, ice, sleeting rain. But through the white layer over the earth, the snowdrops bloom. Imbolc is about seasons, not weather. The land is stirring, as it does every February. Buds are black on the ash trees. Spears of daffodils are shooting up through hard ground. The birds are establishing their territories.
The frosts are still biting, the cold still stings our faces as we gather. And darkness maintains its hold on our lives, even as the year moves steadily towards the vernal equinox. Darkness is our memory of winter, but is still our experience at Imbolc. The mornings begin before the night is ready to leave; the evening dusk falls quickly. Some of the company continued to welcome and work with darkness, even half regretting its slow decline. Some enjoyed darkness and light in equal measure. But most of us were impatient for the light to return – desperate for the warmth and sun of spring. The people at Stanton Drew all came to Bridget as she stood in the centre of the stone circle and tied ribbons onto the girdle, their hopes imbedded in each ribbon.
In a few days time, some friends will come around to help celebrate the poetry, healing and inspiration that is Bridget. They'll share our Bridget crosses.
And now, bit by bit, day by day, the sun will come, it will warm the land, the flowers of spring will bloom and all will be well.
