Sophia Bonnie Wodin

She senses a stirring deep within the Earth that rouses her and calls her name, “Brid….. Brid!” She roams frozen meadows, over hills; through fields lying dormant; traverses streams barely trickling amidst patches of ice.  She spies a clump of snowdrops sending up their tiny shoots at the edge of the forest. Eventually She encounters the Old One, The Calliach, weary from Her labours of winter, Her tending to the mountains and dales, the boulders and very stones beneath our feet: weary from long nights of stories around the never-ending fires. The Calliach looks up, “The time has come. You have arrived!” “Yes Grandmother, I have come once again, as I must. The Earth calls, the year turns, I have come to tend the springs and wells, the fires of the forge, the lifting up of hearts and minds towards the spring that comes!” “You have come in good time, beloved one!” “Yes, Grandmother. It is time. Go to your rest. Your labours of winter are complete. The time has come to welcom...