March 19

Eighteen hours to the equinox, my friends.
A day for contemplating balance, equity, compassion,
Justice.

Mercy.

Compassion, patience, acceptance, evenness, peace.

To remind me of foundational principles,
Snow falls,
Soft and silent,
on all.

March 14th

Morning coffee,
Clear sky.

Nearly clear sky,
salmon-tinged puffy clouds
low on the horizon.
Color gently saturates the greys of dawnlight,
a soft, soft green which will enrich as the earth spins a little more.

Birches hold on to their black-and-white,
Bare reminders that it is still winter,
and that a Twilight Land is never far.

March 13th

Good morning.

I am taking deep breaths of rainy air, ground squishing gently underfoot.
There’s a stillness to enjoy, no wind, no critter moving about, no cars up on the road
– on our unpaved, bag-end road with only four houses beyond ours –
just the soft plinking of drops on leaves.

I don’t know if you can take a saunter, my friend,
whether you have time for one,
whether it would take you into crowds to roll or walk outside your door,
or whether you are stuck indoors.

I’m going to take a walk for you,
and share the sights,
just in case you needed me to.

February 26th

There’s dawn-light now when we waken,
and on an overcast, heavy day in February I can see no difference between dawn-light and dawn,

the sun might be there,
or it might not,
and all is pearl-grey with bare black branches.

There is a peace, and I wish it into my bones.

February 6th

I was still ruminating about long term plans.
Where could I be, spiritually and professionally, in a year?
Two years?
Five?

Sgiobalta woke me gently this morning and told me that she had a plan all figured out. What is it, sweetheart? I asked.

Mamaidh, let’s have a beautiful day.

Second day after Imbolc

More dreams than usual,
vivid ones.
Perhaps it’s time to write them down.

My dear one asked me about the future
and I realized that I have not looked beyond next summer
with any sort of deliberate care,
With the exception that when I’m seventy I would like to carry the ghost of Trina Schart Hyman in case there is more work she would like to do.

This is the work of this season:
What seeds lie under the snow?
Plant them with care this year,
Broadcasting will not do.

Plant with care.