Gillian Monks

'Making Fairytales Come True'

Tag: Winter (Page 1 of 2)

Snow Fairies

I love the snow! Still a child at heart, I rejoice in watching the whirling flakes of ice, in observing the ordinary green world as it turns white and vanishes, in seeing the frosted mountains, in smelling, tasting, touching this winter phenomenon.

Unfortunately, with the vagaries of our temperamental  British weather, further complicated by climate change, we do not often get snow here in the far north-western corner of Wales. I miss it. Some winters I end up positively yearning for it and feel out of step… out of kilter… with the rest of the natural world for lack of it.

Even in a relatively cold winter, such as the one we have just experienced, when many other areas of the U.K. have been regularly blanketed under several feet of snow, the closest we have got to it has been on the mountain tops while down here in the valley, we have had to content ourselves with a mere dusting of frost.

Contrary to my usual wishes, when snow was forecast earlier last week, I only felt concern for the wildlife which is already in the full throes of nesting, budding and blossoming, and disappointment that it couldn’t have come earlier in the year,

Then, last Friday morning, I awoke to the vision of thick snow  covering gardens, trees, fields… the whole valley! A blizzard of huge snowflakes danced past my window; the mountains across the valley were totally obscured and the sky was heavy with more snow to come. I sat with my hands wrapped around a scalding cup of tea, entranced at the magical wonderland being created before my very eyes!

As I watched, I became aware that the snow had a true individual presence, a life of its own – a thick layer of seasonal energy, a thronging of tiny, icy winter elemental beings (one for each snowflake, at least), which had come to bless and bestow upon the land the final kiss of winter, and all the benefits which a cold snap can bring. the snow lay, a living coverlet of natural energy, a rightful presence in partnership and harmony with the land.

Presently, the snow stopped, the clouds cleared and the sun came out, as did the village children, shouting and laughing and calling to each other as they slipped, slithered, tobogganed, snowballed and built snow people  in the field opposite my home. Many delightful memories flooded my mind as I sat, a grinning spectator to all their innocent fun.

With the sun, the temperature rose and the world began to steadily drip. Jewel droplets glittered from every branch and surface. My husband rushed out to clear patches of ground in the snow so that bird seed could be scattered, while fat balls danced from the fruit trees and bowls of ice were replaced with fresh water.

As the snow gradually melted away and the green and golden daffodils and primroses re-emerged, I realised that the land looked different – cleaner, refreshed, revitalised, more vibrant. The snow had gone but the elemental life which had arrived with it had transmuted into something different and was still very much present.

Just a reminder that we cannot always see or understand the need for certain events in our life, but there is always a good reason for them.

 

Wassail, Wassail!

Here we are, already at the last Friday in January. The year is picking up apace! Birds are singing their pre-courting solos, staking early claims to territory for the mating season, snowdrops are in bud, the snow has almost disappeared from the mountains. I sense that the land is almost holding its breath in this last gasp of true winter, as we crest the rise and begin to roll gently down into earliest spring.

Last week, as the light of the short afternoon faded, we ventured out into our garden to celebrate the first anniversary of the founding of our stone circle and to wassail the land. Wassailing is a noisy celebration to begin to awaken the natural world. We lit a fire, shared hot spiced apple juice with the land and each other, sang traditional wassailing songs and made a great hullaballoo with drums, rattles and bells. Special attention was paid to our four apple trees, especially the oldest which must have stood for at least a hundred years and which has rather a crusty, grumpy temperament, but, nevertheless is a good cropper in the autumn.

As we sat in the darkness and talked quietly around the warm and welcoming flames, flakes of snow began to fall and stick to our faces, our hair… the soft kiss of winter.

Wassailing is originally a Norse tradition which I have brought with me from the North West of England to this mountain fastness of Wales. Wassail means ‘good health!’ so in affect, we are blessing the land for another fruitful year. As a family, we have always wassailed the land on the 17th January, but in the recent resurgence in interest and practice of wassailing it can be done any time in January, from New Year’s day right through to the end of the month which then more appropriately spills over into the end of winter and the celebration of earliest spring at Imbolc – or for us here in Wales, Gwyl Ffraid – our next celebration around the wheel of the year at the beginning of February.

There is still time! Get out this weekend and, along with counting your birds for the big Garden Bird Watch for the R.S.P.B., why not acknowledge and bless your land as well? It needn’t actually be your land – simply the land – our land, this Earth which belongs to all of us and which sustains and nourishes us so generously. Even beneath the tarmac of busy roads and the foundations of tall buildings, the heart of the Earth beats strong and true.

Perhaps it is not so much a time to reawaken the natural world so much as an opportunity to reaffirm our connection to it all and to rejoice in it.

Blessings to all!

“Mankind is my Business”

Free illustrations of VintageThe above title is a misquote from “A Christmas Carol” by Charles Dickens, words uttered by a miserably repentant Marley’s ghost to an intractable and very unrepentant Scrooge.

The full quotation is: “Mankind was my business. The common welfare was my business: charity, mercy, benevolence, forbearance. These were all my business. The dealings of my trade were but a drop of water in the ocean of my business!”

In earthly life, Marley became far too engrossed – obsessed, even – with his own business of financial profit and the power which it brought him. How much money we earn and what expensive items we own do not define us. It is not what we are but who we are that counts, and that is usually best revealed by our actions.

Far too often we become so totally wound up in our own emotions and challenges that we forget what life is really all about – living the best life that we can whilst reaching out to all around us with love… and that includes not just humanity but all the natural world as well!

Every year, during the winter season, we are ALL reminded of this fact, regardless of our religious practices or spiritual beliefs, and given the chance to enter into practical action… lay aside our grievances, fears and prejudices, and extend the hand of hospitality and friendship. After all, it is a win-win activity because when we bring loving and giving into our hearts and our daily actions, we not only communicate good feeling to everyone around us, but we also end up feeling much better about ourselves too.

Yet, even when we do think about it, how many of us do not generously give our caring and love for fear that it will be scorned and thrown back in our faces. Rejection is a bitter blow to deal with. Is it foolhardy to persist in giving and loving when there is such danger of being so wounded, or a sign of emotional and spiritual maturity?

To quote a Christian concept, remember to always turn the other cheek… give people the benefit of the doubt… if nothing else it demonstrates that you are the stronger, more mature character, as well as being the far nicer person.
And, in the long run, it becomes a habit.

So, how will your ‘business’ flourish this Midwinter? What will you be able to enter in your columns of positive and negative this Christmas? What service can you render to others; what gift of smiles, friendship, forgiveness and love can you distribute far and wide – even to complete strangers?

No ‘humbugs’ here, dear friends!
With my love.

My Little Sacred Garden

Clear skies, drying boisterous winds, temperatures above 21 degrees… it doesn’t sound much like mid-November does it? But that was what we were treated to last weekend and I grabbed the opportunity to spend Sunday afternoon out in all that glorious freedom of unexpected, unseasonal sunshine.

I spent my time working within our little stone circle, repotting our nine oak saplings which form a protective outer circle around the nine small stones within. Oak trees do not like to be disturbed or have their roots touched or damaged in any way, so I had to be very careful – or at least as careful as it is possible to be while forcibly wrestling young trees out of pots they have grown too large for and are now tight and constricting!

I sincerely hope that they are not too traumatised. The young trees have given me a huge amount of pleasure this year, from their leafy lush foliage back at Midsummer through all their autumn colours. The rustle and scent of their very presence has frequently brought a smile to my lips. Now their leaves are mostly brown and the first  are beginning to drift to the ground. One caught and stuck in my hair while I was working – a large curled paper-dry leaf, surely far too large for the tiny tree it had grown on.

Once the trees had been seen to, I planted snowdrop, daffodil and tulip bulbs around the edges of the pots so that – mice permitting – we might have spring flowers in the circle when all the rest is still a little drab.

And then it struck me… I was planting a sacred garden! In my humble opinion, all growth, all that is encompassed by the natural world, all life, is sacred for it contains that element of divine energy which is life itself… life which ultimately can never be destroyed, only change form.

Once all this was done, I then decided that I needed to do something with our tiny firepit in the centre of the circle which was just an irregular rectangle cut into the grass. I enlarged it and turned it, too, into a circle, edged with old red bricks which contrast nicely with the dark grey of the slate stones. Among these bricks are some from the living room fireplace of my old childhood home in Lancashire, providing continuity of hearth as an important focal point.

Here, where we shall sit to warm ourselves at our Midwinter fire, celebrate the return of the light half of the year at the Spring Equinox, and dance for joy at Midsummer in the full light and heat of the sun amidst the blossoms, here I lay the tentative foundations by planting seeds of new life. Tended with love, there can surely be no greater act of faith and positivity than to plant a garden, a burgeoning beautiful symbol that life continues, and that, contrary to popular belief, working in harmony and understanding, together humanity and the natural world can produce something amazing… and thrive.

The First Storm of Winter

A wealth of tasty crops and healthy food to be enjoyed throughout the winter.

What a night that was! Gales lashing the trees to a frenzy and howling around the house from all directions and then the advent of an electrical storm, the likes of which I have never seen in the United Kingdom before. It lasted for nearly three hours – silent, ominous, threatening – great blinding flashes of bright white light which flickered and soundlessly exploded around our valley and across the furthest mountain tops.

In days of yore, I might have been forgiven for thinking that this was an indication of the outpouring of the Wild Hunt led by the mythical Gwyn ap Nudd as their horses streamed across the dark skies, their hooves striking sparks from the clouds as they gathered speed. In the old days it was the souls of the recent dead which they reputedly went to gather in, but with so much personal trauma and dread currently permeating our rapidly failing society and such a weight of chaos and dysfunction in the abilities of our political leaders I am tempted to reflect more deeply on just what Gwyn and his gruesome band of shades might actually be collecting up. Certainly, there is much about our way of life which is out worn, out dated and in desperate need of clearing away and replacing.

The year grows old, the seasons turn… in less than a fortnight we shall celebrate the Celtic new year and the ending of the old worn out cycle of 2022, and the beginning of a period of quiet, of stasis, of reflection and assessment on what has come to pass this last twelve months. A the dawn breaks on a new day, the savage winds have completely died away and the all the lightening has flickered and flashed away – now peace, stillness and quiet reign once more.

I look out on our little back garden and our fruit and vegetable patch in particular. Last week there were still heavenly scented sweet peas blossoming at the top of their vines and scarlet nasturtiums (which I grow as part of our salad patch to include the leaves and flowers  in our salads) had scrambled from ground level up inti the gooseberry bushes. There were even some pale pink roses left in bloom by the old back gate.

The last flowers of summer?

Now, the land has taken on a somewhat more battered and serious demeanour.

We truly are entering winter, but with good provision of crops from the land. Savoy cabbage, curly kale and broccoli thrive and will stand through the coldest frosts. There is still a patch of lettuce thriving in a sheltered corner. The last of the courgettes and beans have been gathered in and the rest of the tomatoes have just been picked from the greenhouse. Squirrelled away in our freezer are many pound bags of succulent mange tout peas, peppery kohl rabi  and green beans, not to mention all the fruit crops – currents, gooseberries, blackberries, strawberries, raspberries, apples, plums, rhubarb – all now changed into cordials, wines, jams , chutneys and preserves in the alchemy of our kitchen, while in the herbal dispensary, many more plants, fruits and fungus dry or marinade in preparation for the coming chills and ills of winter when our immune systems come under extra strain.

I am filled with immense gratitude for all the wonderful abundance of the Earth, yet am simultaneously awed and humbled by the raw power and absolutely energy which Gaia so easily wields. The storm of yesterday evening so amply demonstrated this.

Just for now we shall make the most of the dwindling daylight, the softer rain, the last hours of golden sunshine when we can still feel the real warmth of the sun’s rays. Now is the time to pause, look about us and attend to the pressing needs of the Earth and all who dwell on her, for Winter is surely coming.

Autumn Abundance

Large wreath for my front door – not yet complete – and smaller one for a friend.

A few days ago, a couple of my dearest friends presented me with an early birthday present – a wonderful long, flat wicker basket which they found recently on Ludlow market. As soon as I clapped eyes on it, it was love at first sight! I could immediately think of numerous uses for it – lined with colourful napkins and heaped with fairy cakes for Hallowe’en or piled with crusty cobs of bread on the local market stall…

However, that was not its first assignment. Instead, the next afternoon I took it out into the garden to collect examples of harvest bounty with which to make an autumn thanksgiving wreath – lengths of green aromatic bay to form the main framework, bunches of acorn cups and beech masts, clusters of deep scarlet hawthorn berries, strands of flaming Virginia Creeper, sprays of purple and pale green hydrangea and tiny-leaved Escalonia with bright little orangey-red berries, and so on.

Me this afternoon, about to hang the finished article

With the assistance of my amazing basket I was able to gather and transport everything gently without crushing or crowding, and once I sat down to begin construction of the wreath it made my work so much easier and less fiddly.

And what a lot we have to be thankful for this autumn, for despite the drought in the summer, we have been blessed by bountiful crops and the countryside as a whole has blossomed and burgeoned into a prosperous wealth of rich rewards. As the plants droop and wither, dying back towards the land which has nurtured and supported them and will now shelter their roots or seeds through the resting time of winter, the trees are turning colour and the rich scent of decay fills the woodlands.

Complete and in place

I love to make a wreath to hang on the front or back door of my home – sometimes both. This one is destined for the front door which is sheltered by a little open-fronted porch which means that the fragile flowers will last much longer. They vary remarkably every year, depending on what is available and has done well. Yes, of course the wreath will gradually dry out or wither and some leaves and berries will fall – but in so doing it will reflect the season it was made to celebrate – a land gradually fading into shadows to dream again of the spring and rebirth… regrowth.

This is a good time to rejoice and give thanks. How might you acknowledge the turning of the season and the maturing of the autumn… the onset of winter?

May all your store cupboards be filled with tasty treasures against the shortages of winter… may you bask in the glow of the long-gone summer sun and taste again the rich flavours of the light half of the year… may the autumn treat you gently.

Welcome Winter!

This picture is of my drawing room, all ready and prepared for our rather more seriously adult Calan Gaeaf/Hallowe’en celebrations last Sunday. The first day after the clocks ‘went back’, the end  of the Celtic year and beginning of Winter.

I chose this picture because it typifies how I feel and what I like about this time of year – a drawing in and coming together of friends and family… a time to sit and cogitate, drift and dream beside the hearth… a chance to process all that has happened in one’s life over the light, sunny spring, summer and autumn months…

This is a special time – a few weeks when we can stop and draw breath, reconnect to our roots and grow into ourselves again before all the craziness of Midwinter and Christmas celebration engulfs us. It is a quiet, very personal time. My deeply hidden, secretive and passionate Scorpio self revels in the shadows, the darkness, and all that which is mysteriously hidden and only hinted at. I LOVE this time of year! Perhaps that is why I chose to be born now? But it speaks to all of us.

When I was a child I believed that it was the close proximity to all the excitement of Christmas which made this time of year so very precious and special to me, but it isn’t that at all, just the reverse. Midwinter/Christmas is a part of it, but the deep resonances of heath and home, of ancient connections and ancestors, of rest and rejuvenation and reaffirmation of belief in and love of life reach very much further into our genetic history… our psyche… the very fibre of our being.

Instead of shrinking away from the cold and the dark of winter, I like to enter wholeheartedly into each activity which the change in season and temperature brings. I mark the day when I need to once more get out my thick winter dresses and the evening I first need to wear my warmer nightdresses or fill my hot water bottle. My taste for certain foods changes too, and once more we are into days of baking cakes rich and heavy with fruit, sticky ginger parkin dark with molasses, steaming, savoury stews and casseroles and one of my childhood favourites, ‘taty pie (meat and potato pie) with pale pastry crust and accompanied by well buttered and peppered root veg from the garden.

Longer evenings mean more time to talk and share with the family, to enjoy leisurely meals, to be unhurried. They also facilitate opportunities to plan and create treats for the Midwinter festivities, secret surprises for all to enjoy with all the glee and little or none of the corrosive pressure. And they provide the time and space to settle with a good book, a long neglected hobby, or simply the space to simply be…

So, please don’t reject the winter – grab it with both hands and thoroughly enjoy it while it is here . The long, light, frenetically busy spring and summer months will soon be back with us. Take this opportunity to absorb the nourishing darkness, sink into the shadows, relax and find yourself again.

Greetings For Calan Gaeaf!

Ancestor Table

The Ancestor Table is set and awaits the names, photos and memorabilia of those to be remembered and honoured… a time of soft light and deep shadows.

So, here we are… at the end of Summer and the beginning of Winter. The seeds of all our endeavours for 2020 have been sown – and harvested – and what a curious year it has been.

Now it is time to draw all the threads of our year together. To take all that we have hoped for, striven for and achieved, all we have failed at or lost, and pull them within to be reviewed, reworked and reborn in resolutions for the coming new year. In the summer months of the year the light is all around us… it pervades, intrudes, even disturbs our sleep as it demands our attention and constant activity. But here we are at the very threshold of Winter – with barely eight hours of daylight each day, less in stormy times of heavy cloud and driving rain, and growing ever shorter as we journey on to Midwinter.

The focus of our lives shifts. The undeniable light which suffused us throughout the summer has dimmed. It is time to harvest that too, and take the light within… to shield and nurture it… to sit and be present with it… to bring it to the very edge of our own inner cauldron which represents the roiling, moiling inner source of all that makes us ‘us’ and illuminate what we discover there. For this is also the time of our own inner harvest. Then we may rest, recuperate, and await our rebirth with that of the Sun at Midwinter. Take time to breath and reflect… to decide where you go from here… what you wish to see and do in the new year… and, perhaps most importantly of all, how you wish to achieve it.

Be bold! Be daring! This time of pandemic is not one for holding back and being timid – it is a time of make or break, a time to play your hand and aim for the very highest goals.

As Darkness envelops us (in many more ways than one) and the northern half of the  Earth judders and sighs as she settles for her rest, all that has passed and gone before – along with all possibility of what may be to come – draws near us at this liminal time, the transition from this to… what? It is for us to choose. And at this time of decision, all the Ancestors, our ancestors, of blood, of place, of belief, draw close once more. Do they come to support us? To chastise us for our follies? To seek forgiveness and love? Welcome them. We need solidarity at this particular time. They have faced it all before. They can help to guide us through. Simply open your hearts and minds to them with love. You do not have to know who they are, just acknowledge that they have been… must have existed, or else you could not possibly be here now. Buried deep within your DNA are genetic memories of all that they have experienced, and they will help you remember now, so that you may learn by their own personal collective triumphs and failures what to repeat and where not to go.

I do not wish you a mere ‘good weekend of festivity’, or a jolly, enjoyable or exciting ‘Hallowe’en’ with silly masks and make-up and fancy dress and all the theatricals which humanity employs when it is really seeking to dodge important issues.

I wish you a mind-bogglingly transformative weekend, an experience of such depth and colour that it will take your breath away. But to begin, simply sit with yourself, light a candle, and be silent, with love in your heart.

May the true blessings of Calan Gaeaf / Samhain / Hallowe’en be yours!

It’s Here!

New Book Dress Rehearsal

‘Spring’ is not quite this large – it is just the perspective of the camera shot – but I promise you that it is a good read!

It is said that if winter comes, can spring be far behind? Well, for me, winter truly begins this weekend… and my third book, ‘Spring In Your Step’ will be published ten days later. And here it is! The proof copy (which is why it has that dark strip across its front cover) just to make sure that there is nothing else that needs doing to it before it goes to print.

The book takes us all from the cold, snowy, dark depressing days of January through the spring months to the very edge of summer and explains how the celebration of the return of spring has developed over the years – not only in the U.K. but in other parts of the world too, it is just another common thread which humanity shares – but contains loads ideas of how we may enjoy these often difficult days of bad weather when the light and warmth of spring and summer seems a very long way off. There are lots of examples of how we might genuinely and authentically celebrate and enjoy these first few often inhospitable months of the year and use them for planning and laying the groundwork for the rest of our year… which, hopefully, will literally give you a real ‘spring in your step’. Like every other season, it is not really what is happening in the rest of the world but how we choose to see it, and hopefully, my third book will help everyone to recalibrate their perception of the first season of the year and make the absolute most of these fresh young spring days of hope, inspiration and potential.

‘Spring In Your Step; Discover and Celebrate the Magic of Springtime’ can be pre-ordered now on https://herbarybooks.com/product/spring-in-your-step/

Gwyl Ffraid Hapus!

Gwyl ffraid 2019

A crisp day of earliest spring!

A very happy Gwyl Ffraid/Imbolc to you all! After a wonderful walk along the river with the family this afternoon, we are toasting in front of a roaring blaze… only white candles lit for light… peace and stillness at this pivotal time between the end of winter and the earliest stirrings of spring. Enjoy!

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