Spring Storms

A storm is coming......


Spring is here, the energy has changed. Storm clouds hover in the air, reminding us to take shelter.
Lightening, quick as a wink, crackles as it magically splinters the sky.

Deep dark rumbles can be heard overhead, as the Heavens complain about something.......

And after the storm, a refreshing rain gently cleanses Mother Earth.....

preparing the way for faeries to emerge.....and magic to begin anew.

Full March Moon

March Moon is called Windy Moon, Fish Moon, or Seed Moon.

A time for growth and new planting.
March winds howl and blow seeds around.
There are buds on trees, flowers poking up from the earth.
A time of renewal and rebirth.

In some cutures, the tides of the full moon in March are the best time for catching fish.

A Recipe for Spring

A pocket full of sunshine
A barrel full of rain
We'll spin it round and round
And mix it up again.

A sprinkling of bees knees
A dandelion's fluff
Around around around again
Isn't it enough?

A shell full of tadpoles
A spoon full of flies
We'll mix it up some more until
The smoke gets in your eyes

Is the fire hot enough
To make our magic spell?
Go look inside the magic pot
But mind the dreadful smell

Birds feathers, worms eyes,
A clothespin on the line
Our cauldron is still bubbling
Our brew is mighty fine

With caterpiller's bright orange coat
And bumble bees sweet nectar
I think by now we're almost done
Please don't forget to check her

Who?
Why Goddess Cloud. She must be gray.
And really full of water.
To make spring showers tumble down
Before the sun gets hotter.

Are we done?
Asks Father Sun
It's time to send the spell
Away up high into the sky
Where springtime spirits dwell.

Just one more thing
To make this sing
Some faerie dust we'll bring
Well, hurry up
We're out of time
It's really almost Spring!


I don't have a clue where these words came from. I was out walking today in the bright sunshine. There were puddles everywhere and birds singing happily. The first verse popped into my mind and the rest just followed as I sat here at the computer.

I have to admit I started to write this post last night, but got absolutely nowhere. Everything sounded awful. And you'd think by now I'd recognize this and just let go. Eventually, I did turn off the computer, read for a bit and went to bed.

It wasn't until this afternoon on my walk that the words just came to me.
Hope with this magic spell, we'll all have an early Spring.

Swimming

Sometimes I feel like I am swimming in deep water.
I swim long and hard.
I get tired.
Sometimes I just want to rest.
But I can't.
I can't let go of Hubby.
He'll drown.

So I continue to swim.
Sometimes I see an island and swim there.
We sit and rest for a while.
But the island always dissolves, just when I least expect it.
Just when I hope that "this time" the island will remain, strong and sturdy so we can stay.

There are times when I float on my back and swim leisurely, enjoying the warm salty water.
Other times the wind picks up and the waves crash over my head, scaring me.

There are times I see hungry sharks close by. But they always swim away.
And whirlpools which threaten to bring us down.

The sun comes up and I swim.
At night it's dark and I shiver.
But I can't let go.
Not
Ever.

Stepping out......

I was shaped by school life.
Everybody had to look the same.
Everybody had to behave the same.
Colours were neutral.
No self expression allowed.
Just memorized answers.
Only "right" answers tolerated.

Our home was decorated in neutral colours. My father went to work every day. My mother stayed at home with us. We children went to school every day. And wore uniforms.

I was happy. But lived in a box. High school was far worse than primary school. At least there was room for colour and fantasy at primary school. At high school one was supposed to be serious.

Everybody looked the same.
Everybody behaved the same.
We wore white blouses and grey skirts and navy blue shoes.
I hated high school. But I behaved and graduated.

One thing that was impressed upon us children was being a shadow. Living as if we weren't really there. Staying neat and clean. Doing our work without complaint.

"Who does he think he is? Does he own the place?" an angry comment from my father for anybody making waves or calling attention to themselves.

So I learned to shrink. And fit into somebody else's mold. Somebody else's pattern of who I should be.

As I look around, I realize I am still trying to fit into the mold I think my husband wants me to live in. I have made some changes in our home. But there is still a lot that is not me.

I blame my husband. But it's not his fault. He actually encouraged the changes in our home that I made. Those changes that reflect who I truly am. The white wicker rocking chair in our bedroom. The dolphin wind-chime hanging in our T.V. room. The pictures around our home. My flowers. My woodworking attempt at making a grandfather clock (still in progress 6 years later).

True - he didn't want new appliances (what's wrong with the old ones?).
True - he didn't want to repaint the T.V. room.
True - we have older windows and badly need to replace or remove the wall-to-wall carpets in our home.

And our home has become somewhat of a hospital. The dining room is the examination room. The nurse came in this morning to draw Hubby's blood - in our dining room. The inhalation therapist who comes to listen to his chest and take his blood pressure carries out her duties in our dining room.
We have a bed in our T.V. room where Hubby takes his naps.
So what? We are lucky to have a home.

But it goes beyond the home. It goes right into my being. This fear of being myself. Of expressing myself. I drag my feet where others write e-zines, publish books, start a business, a webpage, sell on ebay or etsy. Why am I so afraid?


What if...........I stepped out of this "box" and changed myself.
What if...........I wasn't afraid to express myself on paper.
What if..........I took a chance.

Celebrating Imbolc....

...the Celtic festival honouring the Goddess Brighid.

Brighid is a Goddess of poetry, fire, smith-crafts, and healers. Imbolc is from the Gaelic "immolg", meaning "in milk", and refers to the time of year when the ewes and cattle are giving birth. They are "in milk" feeding their young.

This festival celebrates the return of spring and the start of the farming season. The first signs of new green plant growth appear as warmer and longer days wake the earth from her winter sleep.


Few flowers bloom at this time of year. The best known is the snow-drop. She often peeks through the snow in her journey towards the sun, bringing gladness and joy at renewed growth.

Falling Snow

Falling from one world to the next.
Spinning.
Swirling my senses.
Changing the energy. Changing the Earth.

Changing the patterns of our space, our reality, our environment.

Does falling snow add moisture to the air?
Or thick density?
Do you perceive snow as light and fluffy and fun?
Or do you have trouble breathing in the soggy, harsh air?

Do you turn your face to the heavens, enjoying the soft flakes as they dance on the tip of your nose?

Creatures of the Earth tunnel through the soft heaviness; making trails in the pure whiteness.
Playing and frolicking and having fun.
Others shiver; hidden deep in their dens, their burrows. Only venturing out when necessary - for food.

Some poor animals lose their way, floundering in its vast whiteness; on and on through the bitter cold.
Until they stop.
Utterly drained of all energy
Lying still........having surrendered their
lifeforce to the cold.