Eve's
An Imbolc Story by Eve Adams
On a misty morning in early February Sylvie and Granny Sage began preparing for a celebration of Bride’s festival, Imbolc. All the village were busy scrubbing and cleaning their homes: shaking out mats and bedding, sweeping out the hearth of old ashes that had accumulated over the cold dark moons of wintertime. In Sylvie’s dwelling the rafters were full of herbs drying and wool spun and dyed in different earthy hues and shades of berries and lichen. Produce was carefully stored to last into these leaner times before the ground warmed up so that the new seed could be sown.
Singing Bridie’s song throughout the turning wheel of the year was these folks’ way of expressing their gratitude and love for the Goddess of the Land.
Imbolc in particular was their seasonal invitation to Bridie to enter their homes.
Their wish was to welcome her into their hearts and their hearths so that
She would cleanse their beings and environment of dusty cobwebs and dark shadows.
When everything was swept and polished, the finer embellishments were attended to. They had been up since dawn, picking snowdrops, those early harbingers of Spring that dare to shake their heads in the freezing winter weather. Candles and small vessels were put on the hearthstone
as if it were an altar. A little bed sometimes a wicker cradle was specially woven with willow and filled with carded sheep’s wool to hold the Brideog-the Bridie doll. This doll had been made by each household. Every fireplace would host a Brideog of shape and size, texture and personality dependent on the maker. She would be fashioned with grasses and seedpods, feathers and bark, scraps of fabric and bric a brac; treasures found and kept along the year’s way.
During the crafting, the concentrated silence was intense. Their hopes and visions, prayers and intentions were woven into her; each stitch and bow tied
for the future. Bride’s visitation to each home brought with it the potential of new life; a longed- for baby, the maiden’s first bleeding or the elderwoman’s wise blood time or timely release from the body into the spiritlands. Bride’s festival also marked the return of the longer days and the creeping away of the darkness. The coming emergence of Spring sparkled in the frosty rime as the sun showed through the fog.
So preparations over, the whole community met and halloed, dressed in their best homespun.
Doors and windows flung open ready to receive her blessing.
The song was sung and although the words varied according to each individual, the refrain was always the same:
Sing Bridie’s song
Sing it bright and clear
Sing Bridie’s song
Sing it without fear
Sing Bridie’s song
In calm and stormy weather Sing Bridie’s song
Leaf, spark, wave and feather
Sing Bridie’s song
Whenever you’re despairing Sing Bridie’s song
Whatever life is bringing! Sing Bridie’s song
When the light’s returning Sing Bridie’s song
When the season’s changing Sing Bridie’s song
By well and stream and river Sing Bridie’s song
It goes on for ever!
Sing Her song!
Sing Her song!
All aspects of life were couched and cherished in this homely song and ritual. They formed a chanting procession which trouped untidily from home to home. Young and old tottering along together, and all ages in between shouting out new inspired couplets as each brideog was laid in her bed on each hearth while each prayer was prayed fervently out loud or held close to the heart.
Then the welcome was shouted
Come in Bridie
You are welcome!
Your bed is ready
Come to our hearths, our hearts, our earth! (pointing here to their bodies)
After a moment of anticipated wonder and humble reverence, the wave of people moved on. The song gathered momentum again. The sunwheel symbol made out of reeds was placed in the thatch as a marker that Bridie had returned there. Finally the purposeful crowd ended up around the ancient well where the precious water bubbles up from deep in a cleft in the rock to make a pool.
Recognising Nature’s places in rock, well, tree, hill and valley.
Recognising Nature’s blessing in cloud, breeze, storm and rainbow. Recognising Nature’s gifting in seed, leaf, nut and berry.
Recognising Nature’s turning in Autumn, Winter, Spring and Summer.
Granny Sage recited this ending prayer. She stood regally in her hooded elderberry cloak and bathed her face.
She spoke these words over and over slowly as each came forward to bathe their faces. All knew that this gesture held a great mystery. The mystery was the transformation of the Old Hag of Winter into the Comely Maiden of Spring. It became enlivened by the ritual and song, in this way remaining woven into the fabric of their lives to be experienced and celebrated throughout the year!
Blessed be!
On a misty morning in early February Sylvie and Granny Sage began preparing for a celebration of Bride’s festival, Imbolc. All the village were busy scrubbing and cleaning their homes: shaking out mats and bedding, sweeping out the hearth of old ashes that had accumulated over the cold dark moons of wintertime. In Sylvie’s dwelling the rafters were full of herbs drying and wool spun and dyed in different earthy hues and shades of berries and lichen. Produce was carefully stored to last into these leaner times before the ground warmed up so that the new seed could be sown.
Singing Bridie’s song throughout the turning wheel of the year was these folks’ way of expressing their gratitude and love for the Goddess of the Land.
Imbolc in particular was their seasonal invitation to Bridie to enter their homes.
Their wish was to welcome her into their hearts and their hearths so that
She would cleanse their beings and environment of dusty cobwebs and dark shadows.
When everything was swept and polished, the finer embellishments were attended to. They had been up since dawn, picking snowdrops, those early harbingers of Spring that dare to shake their heads in the freezing winter weather. Candles and small vessels were put on the hearthstone
as if it were an altar. A little bed sometimes a wicker cradle was specially woven with willow and filled with carded sheep’s wool to hold the Brideog-the Bridie doll. This doll had been made by each household. Every fireplace would host a Brideog of shape and size, texture and personality dependent on the maker. She would be fashioned with grasses and seedpods, feathers and bark, scraps of fabric and bric a brac; treasures found and kept along the year’s way.
During the crafting, the concentrated silence was intense. Their hopes and visions, prayers and intentions were woven into her; each stitch and bow tied
for the future. Bride’s visitation to each home brought with it the potential of new life; a longed- for baby, the maiden’s first bleeding or the elderwoman’s wise blood time or timely release from the body into the spiritlands. Bride’s festival also marked the return of the longer days and the creeping away of the darkness. The coming emergence of Spring sparkled in the frosty rime as the sun showed through the fog.
So preparations over, the whole community met and halloed, dressed in their best homespun.
Doors and windows flung open ready to receive her blessing.
The song was sung and although the words varied according to each individual, the refrain was always the same:
Sing Bridie’s song
Sing it bright and clear
Sing Bridie’s song
Sing it without fear
Sing Bridie’s song
In calm and stormy weather Sing Bridie’s song
Leaf, spark, wave and feather
Sing Bridie’s song
Whenever you’re despairing Sing Bridie’s song
Whatever life is bringing! Sing Bridie’s song
When the light’s returning Sing Bridie’s song
When the season’s changing Sing Bridie’s song
By well and stream and river Sing Bridie’s song
It goes on for ever!
Sing Her song!
Sing Her song!
All aspects of life were couched and cherished in this homely song and ritual. They formed a chanting procession which trouped untidily from home to home. Young and old tottering along together, and all ages in between shouting out new inspired couplets as each brideog was laid in her bed on each hearth while each prayer was prayed fervently out loud or held close to the heart.
Then the welcome was shouted
Come in Bridie
You are welcome!
Your bed is ready
Come to our hearths, our hearts, our earth! (pointing here to their bodies)
After a moment of anticipated wonder and humble reverence, the wave of people moved on. The song gathered momentum again. The sunwheel symbol made out of reeds was placed in the thatch as a marker that Bridie had returned there. Finally the purposeful crowd ended up around the ancient well where the precious water bubbles up from deep in a cleft in the rock to make a pool.
Recognising Nature’s places in rock, well, tree, hill and valley.
Recognising Nature’s blessing in cloud, breeze, storm and rainbow. Recognising Nature’s gifting in seed, leaf, nut and berry.
Recognising Nature’s turning in Autumn, Winter, Spring and Summer.
Granny Sage recited this ending prayer. She stood regally in her hooded elderberry cloak and bathed her face.
She spoke these words over and over slowly as each came forward to bathe their faces. All knew that this gesture held a great mystery. The mystery was the transformation of the Old Hag of Winter into the Comely Maiden of Spring. It became enlivened by the ritual and song, in this way remaining woven into the fabric of their lives to be experienced and celebrated throughout the year!
Blessed be!
Granny Eyebright's Autumn Message
Granny Eyebright loves the autumn and the time in September when the air turns crisp and sharp. The evenings chilly and being barefoot is more of an effort than wearing fleecy slippers.
A cosy fire lit in the evenings, she feels less pulled to be active outside in the golden twilight and more able to sit still with a book or to turn to her coloured yarns and embroidery threads with the curtains closed against the dying of the day. Then she can dream and weave her magic. This is her old, old self that will be with her when she passes on and has been with her since her birth and beyond. As flowers potency dwindles, berries are vibrant- hawthorn, rowan, elder, blackberry, rosehip, white and black bryony, guilder rose, dogwood, spindlewood berries, cuckoo pint.
Granny Eyebright calls me strongly now. I hear her and want to run, dance and laugh and sing with her. She is a good companion and teacher. Together we have gathered blackberries and elderberries from the hedgerows, common and roadsides. Her inspiration is wild and free, old as the hills and as wise.
Autumn Equinox takes place on 22nd September when there are equal hours of daylight and darkness. The earth is in balance between night and day, a rare occurrence in fact it only happens twice a year. Granny Eyebright likes to think that it is a time when we humans feel more in balance than at any other time but unfortunately it is short-lived and acts as a reminder to how we might live.
Activity:
Blackberry picking is a favourite and if you manage to pick more than you can eat you can make blackberry pancakes, have them with cream or yoghurt or perhaps make some cooked blackberry and apple which is very yummy.
Another possibility is to pick some berries to put on your place of honour. There are some lovely berries like rowanberries or elderberries or sloes (watch the thorns) which can be edible but are quite sharp. Also there are poisonous berries like white and black Bryony and Deadly Nightshade which you mustn’t eat however attractive they look. Please always make sure you know the difference between those you know are good to eat and those that are dangerous to eat. Getting a book from the library might be a good idea, to identify berries.
