A royal coronation, traditional arts of calligraphy and illumination, mythic overtones – any of these would have been enough to catch my interest. But throw in a Green Man and I’m intrigued beyond measure.
Brigid’s Day, Candlemas, Imbolc, Groundhog Day – by any of its names, we are in one of the four cross-quarter tides of the year, coming as it does between midwinter and vernal equinox. It is the quickening time, but for me the first stirrings of early spring are more shy and tender than usual.
This is a reverie. I go to walk with myself. To get clear in my mind, the kind of spaciousness that can come to me with an extended stretch of silence. To let memory come in. To lay down some ocean time in my skin. To work, walk, write. To let wonder in.