I left my house in murky fog. Up on the hill road, I turned a corner and the sun was in front of me. I saw the first nibble from the disc.
Frost on the grass greeted us as we set up to dance in the park. The sheep and lambs in the adjacent field skittered and baaed, unsettled by the eerie light. As we raised the energy in the circle, silence descended. Sheep and lambs stood immobile. Birds ceased their calls.
Before the sun and moon we danced. We danced for my beech tree and the worms rose from the earth. We danced for Tribal Unity, those present and those absent and the shadows lengthened. At 9.25am we danced for the sun, his glorious smile captured beneath the moon.
Welcoming the sun, appreciating the turning of the wheel of nature, is dramatic for me this year. The changing seasons are more obvious in the countryside. The sun’s path across the sky dictates our work outdoors. Once it dips behind the hill in the east, we lose light rapidly and the chill descends. Through the winter, we struggled to fit in outdoor jobs between the hours of daylight and the changeable weather.
Since October, when we’d been in our house a year, as the days shortened, my confidence, resolve and hope began to wane. Losing my Mum in November added to the sombre mood I wrestled with. Looking forward to the return of the light and a roof for the house, got me out of bed every day.
Snowdrops lifted me. First, a few clumps on the grass verges made me smile and then, they carpeted my lawn and blazed down the grass banks through the lanes. The crocus became my purple flame of hope, pushing up through the grass before opening to the light of a watery sun.
The first tiny bleats in the field, a new young life, awakening to its first dawn turned up the burner on my flame but not until I welcomed the sun on Friday, did I feel that spring was truly here.
Bright Ostara Blessings xx