Sunday, March 18, 2012

MARCH HARES, EASTER EGGS, AND NEW BEGINNINGS

THE VERNAL EQUINOX
     This year winter seems to be lasting forever. Probably because I'm getting older and am therefore less tolerant of the cold, the dreariness, and life in general. But the Vernal Equinox is upon us, can true spring be far behind?

     Now from the cold darkness of earth and stone a gentle warmth is brewing and from the roots of trees, sap begins to rise; the breeze begins to warm and soothe us; Honor the birds who fill the skies: the robins fat and happy, the meadowlarks soon to follow, blessing us with their cheerful songs.


And watch for those bunnies cavorting about. 


     The expression "Mad as a March Hare" may be foreign to many, except for those who spent a lot of time hobnobbing during the 1500s when the saying first came into fashion. Back then, "mad" meant crazy or wild, and this could certainly be used to describe the behavior that was commonly exhibited by the normally shy and quiet hare during the spring mating season (which in Europe primarily meant the month of March). Their odd conduct included boxing with potential paramours but contrary to early belief, it was the female throwing the one-two punch

      Erasmus used the words mad as a marsh hare because he felt the hares living in the marshes were wilder due to their lack of hedges and cover. But Chaucer used the expression mad as a hare before him and Lewis Carroll gave the usage new life with the creation of his character the March Hare in Alice and wonderland.  


     Mad as a March Hare: from Patti Wigington 
     Spring equinox is a time for fertility and sowing seeds and so nature's fertility goes a little crazy. In medieval societies in Europe, the March hare was viewed as a major fertility symbol -- this is a species of rabbit that is nocturnal most of the year, but in March when mating season begins there are bunnies everywhere all day long. Apparently the males tend to get frustrated when rebuffed by their mates and like most men, they bounce around erratically when discouraged.

     It should be noted that the wish for fertility can encompass fertility of mind, heart, soul, creativity, and the land, not just the obvious.


     The Equinox, known to the Pagans as Ostera, is a day of balance, the midpoint between Imbolc (Candlemas) and Beltane (the feast of the green man). Twelve hours of darkness and twelve hours of light. It is the time when light overtakes darkness and even though the days have been growing longer since the Winter Solstice, they are now greater than the night. On the equinox the sun rises due east and sets due west.



      It is a time when we should consciously make an effort to balance our life and offset any sadness with joy, anger with forgiveness. Like being on a tightrope, sometimes balance is not easily achieved either physically or mentally, but use this day to try to align yourself for the days ahead which will be filled with activity. Ask for energy even as you are grateful for the energy returning to the earth.  
    
     Easter also falls in the spring. The word Easter comes to us from the Norsemen's Eostur, Eastar, Ostara, and Ostar, and the pagan goddess Eostre, all of which involve the season of the growing sun and new birth.

      The ancient Egyptians, Persians, Phoenicians, and Hindus all believed the world began with an enormous egg, thus the egg as a symbol of new life has been around for eons. The particulars may vary, but most cultures around the world use the egg as a symbol of new life and rebirth.


         A notation in the household accounts of Edward I of England showed an expenditure of eighteen pence for 450 eggs to be gold-leafed and colored for Easter gifts. The first book to mention Easter eggs by name was written five hundred years ago. Yet, a North African tribe that had become Christian much earlier in time had a custom of coloring eggs at Easter.

 Long hard winters often meant little food, and a fresh egg for Easter was quite a prize. Later, Christians abstained from eating meat during the Lenten season prior to Easter. Easter was the first chance to enjoy eggs and meat after the long abstinence.


       Some European children go from house to house begging for Easter eggs, much like Halloween trick-or-treaters. Called pace-egging, it comes from the old word for Easter, Pasch. Many old cultures also attributed the egg with great healing powers. It is interesting to note that eggs play almost no part in the Easter celebrations of Mexico, South America, and Native American Indian cultures. Some believe the egg-rolling contests are a symbolic re-enactment of the rolling away of the stone from Christ's tomb.



The decoration of small leaf-barren branches as Easter egg trees has become a popular custom in the United States since the 1990s.


      This is the time of the year when you can put into action all those plans you made during the dark time ... the gestation period is over and everything is bursting with new life. Ostara is a very joyful Sabbath, lots of merry making and flirting, as it should be, the sexual tension between the God and the Goddess has begun, and the dance of life has begun yet again.

      Regardless of religious perspective it seems to be a time of rebirth and rejoicing, so get out there and honor the Creator however you may conceive of such an entity, plant some seeds in the earth and in your mind and pray for growth and the rebirth of goodness and peace.

               Ostara or Eostre from Yvonne at Earth Witchery
                The Maiden aspect of the Three-fold Goddess.

     To the ancient Saxons, Ostara was an important Goddess of spring, but we know little else about her. Some have suggested that Ostara is merely an alternate name for Frigg or Freya, but neither of these Goddesses seem to have quite the same fertility function as Ostara. Frigg, goddess of the home, wouldn't seem to be associated with such an earthy festival and Freya's form of fertility is more based on eroticism than reproduction.

     However, Ostara is associated, almost interchangeably, with many different goddesses. She is essentially similar to Freya, for she is the goddess of the fertile spring, the resurrection of life after winter. She was equated with the goddess Idunna, who bore the Apples of Eternal Youth to the Aesir, and many believe that Ostara and Idunna are the same, or represent the same principle. She is almost certainly the same as the Greek Goddess Eos, Goddess of the Dawn.


      Again, following the threefold theme -- Eos (is Dawn), Hemera (is Day) and Nyx ( is Night.) As Ostara is Goddess of the Dawn, we can understand why sunrise services have always been an important aspect of the spring resurrection/rebirth observances of other cultures.

     Pagan Anglo-Saxons made offerings of colored eggs to her at the Vernal Equinox. They placed them at graves, probably as a charm of rebirth. (Egyptians and Greeks were also known to place eggs at gravesites). The Goddess of Fertility was also the Goddess of Grain, so offerings of bread and cakes were made to her. Rabbits are sacred to Ostara, especially white rabbits and she is said to be able to take the form of a rabbit.


     One myth says Ostara found a bird dying from the cold. She changed it to a rabbit so it could keep warm. Maybe this is why the Easter Bunny brings eggs to children on Easter.


Here is another legends regarding the Goddess Eostre/Ostara, Easter bunnies, and Easter eggs.


            (The Legend of Eostre) From Lady Day

      The Goddess Eostre had a special fondness for children.  They followed her wherever she went as she loved to sing and entertain them with magic. One day, while sitting in a garden with her young entourage, a lovely songbird fluttered down to sit on her hand.  She whispered a few  words, and the bird was transformed into her favorite animal, the rabbit. 
   
      This delighted the children, until they noticed that the rabbit was trembling with fear and anguish. That's when everyone realized how unhappy the rabbit was at this transformation as it could no longer sing nor soar into the sky. Instead, it had been changed into a mute, defenseless, unhappy creature, unable to defend itself against predators, be they animal or human. 



      The children begged Eostre to reverse the spell, but having broken the "as ye harm none, do as ye will" rule, she found her power diminished to a point where she was no longer able to do so.  The former bird must remain a rabbit for the most part of the year except at the onset of spring, when Eostre's power is at its height. Then the rabbit can return to its bird-form for a short while and lay its eggs. In celebration of its brief freedom and to reward the children who asked the Goddess to undo the spell, Eostre's rabbit carries its eggs to children throughout the world.

        To remind the world of her folly, Eostre herself etched the outline of a rabbit into the full moon, where you can see it facing left with its ears going back to the right.  Thus it soars safely against the sky, far removed from the perils that threaten it down here on Earth.



We welcome you Ostara,
goddesses of spring,
in the trees,
in the soil,
in the flowers,
in the rains,
and we are grateful
for your presence.

                                Patti Wigington


Thursday, February 23, 2012

THE BRAVE LITTLE GOAT

My amazing wonderful Precious:
My unicorn with glorious horns,
a little white beard, and split hooves.

You were so aptly named, for precious you surely were.
 I loved you so much.
Birth date reckoned 1996 
Died 2-21-2012


   You and Cowboy were my “first born”. We went through a lot together, you helped me to get on with my life after Gary died. When I first saw you at the Boulder Humane Society I fell in love with you and knew immediately you were the first animal to be rescued, then Cowboy ran up “take me too, take me too.”



       You were laying with the front end of your body in a wheelbarrow, your hooves, three of them because you only had three feet, were terribly overgrown and your long beautiful white mohair was a big matted mess. You had blood sucking lice and were sick. I looked at the lice under Gary’s microscope, yikes.

        I learned to love goats because of you and Cowboy. You suffered through me learning how to trim hooves and what to feed you and we spent hours every year trimming your hair. You were scared of the buzzy thing so I cut it by hand with a blunted scissors and you were so patient. We played the radio and listened to the oldies. At first you were strong enough to stand on the big wooden spool that made it a lot easier on my back but later I just sat on the floor and you stood on an old chaise lounge pad. I tried to spin the hair with a drop spindle but wasn’t very good at it. Now I have all those bags of hair but not you.



     You are the most noble, gentle, courageous, and kind animal it has been my privilege to care for. You learned to cross the little bridge at the first place so smart, so brave, and ran up the ditches with the best of them. When I broke my pelvis and was on a walker we were a pair to draw too hobbling across the field. The one time I put the donkeys and you guys together, Jack went down in the ditch and his head was ground level and you head-butted that donkey to pay him back for chasing you around, talk about a gutsy little gal, that was you.
 
   After 13 years I guess I should have more stories to tell about you and the times we had. But they were just simple and glorious days of companionship (a tremendous gift) and smiles, it went by so quickly.

   You came home in Craig’s horse trailer and walked all the way to the barn. You always did everything I asked of you. One day you took it in your head to climb the steps at the house with four doors. We played Goat Show Barbie and Cowboy Ken. I thought you bit me once but you were just trying to eat my flannel shirt.

We should have called first, Cowboy.
                                                  I don't think anyone is home

     Your favorite treats were animals crackers, especially the elephants because, hey they are the biggest. You looked so cute in your little red coat. The ducks and goose liked to sneak in the barn and eat your chow and mess up your water. You ate their cracked corn to pay them back. Lolly goose also liked to pluck at your hair, you would stand there and let her as if you were getting a beauty treatment.

      Please forgive me if I ended your life before you wanted. I hope it was relieving your pain, the indignanty of your brain outliving your body, ending the struggle and giving you peace. If there is any cosmic justice you now have 4 feet and are running around with Cowboy.
I love you.
From my arms to the Goddess……Cowboy and Bill are waiting. 
MOM



Sunday, February 12, 2012

BERTHOUD HISTORICAL SOCIETY BOOKSIGNING

February 10, 2012
VALENTINE'S DAY BOOKSIGNING






      My thanks to the Berthoud Historical Society for sponsoring my booksigning at the beautiful McCarty/Fickel home built in 1916.

     
Somewhat unassuming from the outside, but spacious and bright and very remarkable within.  There is such a happy atmosphere in the house, nearly all of the furnishings are original and I think (or at least hope) many happy times were shared there. 

        My sister and two friends (Evy and Angela) came, they already have all my books but offered support and truly brightened the day. Darn, I didn't get a photo of them....It was nice to get to know Virginia, John, and Mark a little better. They are instrumental in running the Historical Society. Gees, didn't get their photo either, well wasn't it just a "me me me" day. Not too self-centered....

    Didn't have any other "fans" show up, but above mentioned folks bought a few books. It was VERY cold that day, but the sun came out and all in all it was a fun experience and a day filled with positive energy. 

    Looking forward to the day when I'm famous (rich is okay too) and people are lined up around the block to see me! Beautiful dreamer...

Gini.

Wednesday, February 1, 2012

HAPPY IMBOLC

     What do groundhogs predicting the weather, ewes, a Pagan goddess, a Christian saint and spring cleaning all have in common? They are each intertwined into the history of Imbolc, the feast day of Brigid, on February 2nd.

     This holiday is one of the Celtic fire festivals and is also called Oimelc, an Irish term that means ewe's milk. Traditionally, this time of year exhibited the first signs of spring shown by the lactation of ewes. It is a cross-quarter day signifying the midpoint between the Winter Solstice and the Vernal Equinox.


    Being a cross-quarter day it is also a reverse barometer. Just like the logic used on Groundhogs Day. If the weather is fair (sun is shining and Punxsutawney Phil sees his shadow) the weather will take a turn for the worse and there will be more weeks of winter. If the weather is bad, good news, better weather is on the horizon.

     The Christians usurped the day and tried to redirect the Pagans to worshiping St. Brigit and also called it Candlemas. And as the 
The Celtic goddess was  Brigid the Light-Bringer, it tied in nicely.

    St. Brigit is known for her special cross, said to have been woven from rushes as she tended a terminally ill Celtic chieftain, telling him the story of Christ and converting him on his death bed to Christianity. Many streams, trees, mounds are named for the Saint in the British Isles

     In many parts of the world, February is a harsh and bitter month.  In old Scotland, the month fell in the middle of the period known as Faoilleach, the Wolf-month; it was also known as a’ marbh mhiòs, the Dead-month. 


But although this season was so cold and drear, small but sturdy signs of new life began to appear: Lambs were born and soft rain brought new grass. Ravens begin to build their nests and larks were said to sing with a clearer voice.

     Brigid is also known as the daughter of the Daghda, the “Great God” of the Tuatha de Danaan (faeries). In folklore he calls her a “woman of wisdom…a goddess whom poets adored, because her protection was very great and very famous." Since the discipline of poetry, was interwoven with seership, Brigid was seen as the great inspiration behind divination and prophecy, the source of oracles.

     She is the goddess of poetry, healing, and smith-craft. Also described as the patron of other vital crafts of early Celtic society: dying, weaving and brewing. A goddess of regeneration and abundance, she was greatly beloved as a provider of plenty who brought forth the bounties of the natural world for the good of the people. She is closely connected with livestock and domesticated animals. She herself had two oxen called Fea and Feimhean

    This is a good time for spring cleaning of house, hearth, and spirit. So burn a candle, get out the broom, take heart and have hope as we look forward to the rebirth of the earth and our creativity. May your spirit be renewed.


Here are two ceremonial poem/chants from Patti Wigington’s site.

Hail, Brigantia! Keeper of the forge,
she who shapes the world itself with fire,
she who ignites the spark of passion in the poets,
she who leads the clans with a warrior's cry,
she who is the bride of the islands,
and who leads the fight of freedom.

Hail, Brigantia! Defender of kin and hearth,
she who inspires the bards to sing,
she who drives the smith to raise his hammer,
she who is a fire sweeping across the land.

-----------

Bride of the earth, sister of the faeries,
daughter of the Tuatha de Danaan,
keeper of the eternal flame.

In autumn, the nights began to lengthen,
and the days grew shorter, as the earth went to sleep.
Now, Brighid stokes her fire, burning flames in the hearth,
bringing light back to us once more.

Winter is brief, but life is forever. Brighid makes it so.



Friday, January 13, 2012

HAPPY NEW YEAR

HAPPY NEW YEAR


     I don't make resolutions anymore. I never keep them and then I feel guilty. However, while speaking with my friend, Angela, on New Year's Eve, she mentioned that rather than resolutions she makes plans. This sounded so much more logical, optimistic, and attainable. And hey, plans can be altered, added to, fall through, be scrapped, go awry, or culminate in great sucess. So here goes....



I plan to have a smashing vegetable garden this year.

           

                I plan to grow out my forlorn hair do (hair don't).

  
        

        I plan to write more, including westerns and contemporaries. 
     
                                                      
                       

                             I plan to become rich and famous.

 
                      

                                    I plan to try meditation. 
                                                   

                        

                            I plan, oh I can't tell you that one....  


      Anyway, I hope your New Year is filled with exciting new plans, happy days, romantic nights, and dreams come true.




  

                  And if things aren't working out, try a new plan. 

    

Sunday, December 18, 2011

THE WINTER SOLSTICE: CELEBRATION OF LIGHT


     Last year at the Winter Solstice, I had barely moved into my house and I remember laying in the snow in the frontyard, hoping my new neighbors we'ren't watching as I gazed up at the Lunar eclipse of a full moon. How magical. 

    The festival was called Satunalia by the Romans as they honored the god Saturn. Yule by others.  My goats especially love the notion of Joulupukki, a Scandinavian tradition whereby goats pulled Santa's sleigh.
      On the night of the Solstice, the longest night of the year, darkness triumphs then gives way to light. Some believe the Dark King is transformed into the Infant Light, the divine child Sun who is the bringer of hope and the promise of summer. It is the rebirth of the King of the woodlands, the Green Man, and the days begin to grow longer and will do so until the Equinox.
         art wrok by Anne Stokes

    The word solstice comes from the Latin words "sun" and "to stop", due to the fact that the Sun seems to stop in the sky. The Sun is directly overhead at "high-noon" on Winter Solstice at the latitude called the Tropic of Capricorn. In the Northern Hemisphere, the solstice days are the days with the fewest hours of sunlight during the whole year.Winter begins in the Northern Hemisphere on December 22, 2011, at 12:30 A.M. (EST).


 Winter Folklore 
Deep snow in winter; tall grain in summer—Estonian proverb
Visits should be short, like a winter's day.
A fair day in winter is the mother of a storm—English proverb
Summer comes with a bound; winter comes yawning.
Onion skins very thin, mild winter coming in. 

                         and to all, a magical good night....

Thursday, December 8, 2011

STILL MOMENTS MAGAZINE



Just saw my ad for LADY GALLANT in the lovely holiday issue of STILL MOMENTS MAGAZINE

    Thank you Darlene Fedette for the opportunity and the beautiful layout.  http://stillmomentsezine.blogspot.com/

        Lady Gallant is set during the holiday season and is the perfect read for winter. Hunker down and cozy up and go along with Josephine Posey as she heads off to the Black Sea with Florence Nightingale to tend the wounded in the Crimean War. 

       The hero, Garrick Allen, a reporter for the Times, is one of England's first war correspondents. He'll win your heart as well as Josie's as he champians the soldiers and tries his hardest to let the people back home know exactly what is going on.

     From the charge of the Light Brigade, to the backstreets of Constantople, there is intrigue waiting for you. And even black market schemes and bombs bursting in air can't stop the passion waiting for Josie and Garrick.  

Praise for Lady Gallant:
     “A very romantic Victorian love story,
circa 1854 set during the Crimean War.
Rifkin’s novel is epic in scope, meticulously
researched and finely detailed. A genuinely
sweet romance married to an exciting
war/espionage story.”
                                                ~RT Magazine

     “I was intrigued at the possibility that this story
might offer something fresh. I was not disappointed.
Reading Lady Gallant was a pleasure. The characters
are relatable and the romance is touching. I highly
recommend it to any fan of historical romance.”
                                              ~Long and Short Reviews





          A SMALL SNIPPET FOR YOUR CONSIDERATION
           

   Disowned by her father and still mourning the death of her fiancé, Josephine Posey joins Florence Nightingale’s brigade of nurses bound for the Black Sea. Thousands of British soldiers desperately await these angels of mercy and a new life awaits Josie. Amidst the chaos of death and despair, she finds a spark of hope, lighting the flame once more inside her soul.

    In search of the truth, Garrick Allen, one of Britain’s first war correspondents also journeys to the Crimean Peninsula. To him the soldiers seem all but abandoned by Queen and country, and as he smokes his cheroots and makes friends with a bottle, he writes his bold but honest dispatches for The Times.  Not wanting anything more than to finish his job and go home, Garrick is blind-sided by a nurse with attitude who offers him a new slant on life and a reason to love.

Excerpt:
    She wore no corset, only a camisole, and the curve of her firm breasts threatened to spill up and over the sleek fabric.
 
   Dazzled by the riotous accumulation of lace, roses, and ribbons, Garrick's gaze drifted lazily over her form, the combination of his prim image of Josie and the erotic under-things she wore exploded into a conflict of unexpected sensations—delightfully unsettling.
   
     “You’re quite bold in your choice of fashion,” he pointed out with a smile, as he envied the silk that caressed her in places he longed to touch.

     Doubt shadowed her expression. “Does it leave something to be desired?”

    “Oh yes, I dare say it does.”

    “What?” she demanded petulantly.

    “Only you,” he reassured.

     A naughty smile was her only reply. The expression didn’t appear to be practiced
or contrived. He ached a little more with wanting her.

    “You’re so beautiful.”

     She glanced down almost as if embarrassed or unbelieving. He tipped up her chin, forcing her gaze to meet and mingle with his. “Take off the rest of your dress,” he whispered.

     Like a cat uncurling from a sweet dream, she rose to stand before him. Then she slipped her thumbs under the fabric that hung gathered about her hips and with a slight bit of encouragement, the quilted taffeta slid downward over the wonderful curve of her bottom. The fabric billowed to the floor and pooled around her ankles.


Lady Gallant is available at The Wild Rose Press in paperback or e-book.