Happy St. Brigit’s Day!
In the traditional Irish calendar, St. Brigit’s Day on the first of February ushers in the Spring season. Here in New England, we are looking at 6-12 inches of snow barreling towards us and sub-zero temps at night.
YET – the light IS changing, isn’t it? We have moved into that time of winter when the light is pellucid. Walks in the wood, cold as they are, offer a kind of ecstasy: the colors of moss and hemlock and even mountain laurel aglow against the snow, the sky pure in its unblemished blue. Before the latest snow visited, I thought I spied a few snowdrop greens poking up through last year’s leaves in the front garden. Always, even when we don’t see much evidence of change, things are on the move. Nature handles all of it for us.
I hope you enjoy this poem, a gift of good counsel from Brigit, firey saint and goddess. She invites us to sit down and “eat without speaking.” Here is our chance to receive “the gift without stint” and “stop flapping/ like a startled hen.”
As ever, she told me exactly what I needed to hear. Dear reader, I wish you JOY. Always. And a visit from Brigit beside!
