The wonder of life
Here in Brighid's Isles we have got rather used to dull, wet, mild winters. This winter has been rather different as we are now in the third week of settled, bright, cold weather with the occasional heavy snowfall. On the moor where I live the landscape has been covered in snow for some time now and as I look out of the window the sun is just setting over a beautiful scene of snow with naked trees and birds silhouetted against a clear sky. After a day of unbroken sunshine the outside thermometer climbed to -2C after having fallen to a low of -7C overnight. The recent blue moon was magnificent against the cold winter night sky. I hear snatches of conversation amongst the young rejoicing that they have had the first white Christmas of their lives.
I find it truly magical that if I carefully brush aside the snow I can find snowdrops pushing their way through Mother Earth searching for the light that will give them the energy to grow, flower and reproduce. Carefully brushing the snow back I leave them protected under Mother's own duvet; aware that these special flowers are the true heralds of spring. Sacred to Brighid, determiners of Imbolc I wait expectantly for the first tiny white flower to raise its head to the sun.
Meanwhile the clear cold sky is now shot through with red and the landscape takes on the twin colours of fertility. New life will soon spring forth, new possibility, new beginnings. The wonder of it all.