An update for Tairis with added plagiarism (again...)

Là Fhèill Brìghde arrived, and our little household welcomed in Brigid, and the Spring with ceremony and feasting. Rosie did the honours with making our dealbh Brìde this year, which now takes pride of place on the shrine in the kitchen, and she also took charge of inviting her to come visit us. Brigid was welcomed with the words of a very shy, but excited, ten-year-old.

As I posted a while ago, last year, I bought a mould with the idea of making some small candles, and I finally got around to having a go at them. For a first effort they came out pretty good, I think, in spite of the bubbles (I need to regulate the temperature of the wax better, I'm guessing is the problem). I tried out a few colours and the kids are still debating which ones they like the best. I think Rosie did a fantastic job with our Brigid doll – she made several and then picked out the one she thought was most appropriate for the occasion, which she kept under wraps until the big reveal:

We also put out our brat for Brigid to bless, and Rosie chose to put out a necklace she got for Christmas this year, so she has something she can carry around with her.

I made a few crosses while the kids were at school, and then when Rosie got home she decided to join in. I helped her make a three-armed cross out of rushes, and then she had a go at some more out of pipe-cleaners. They really are easier for kids to work with, though I have some reservations about the metal in them. If it contains iron, it kind of defeats their purpose, you know? But still, they weren't the only ones we made, so it's OK. The different colours helped Rosie keep track of where she was, as she tried her hand at a four-armed cross for the first time:

I felt like mixing things up a little so decided to try my hand at something new this year. I've made three- and four-armed crosses most years, as well as the "diamond" type crosses I grew up with, so this time I figured I'd try making a style of cross I've never made before. I settled on the "interwoven" type, which is when, during some searching for images I could work from as a guide, I found a web page that's plagiarised my own page on making the cros Bríde (or crois Brìghde, if you want to Gaelic it up). So that's nice.

On the plus side, it helped me realise that the type of cross I was looking to make was wrongly described on my own page, which has followed through on the plagiarist's page and had a knock on effect in wrongly describing other crosses as well (the Bogha Bríde is a cross inside a circle; they've shown the interwoven type as a Bogha Bríde instead). So I've corrected my own page and I apologise for the confusion, folks. My bad – I think an older source I looked at used the same term to describe an "interwoven" cross (referring to multiple crosses woven together) as other sources did to describe something else (the type of cross I was actually looking to make).

On the negative side, I'm a tad bit annoyed that once again someone is using my words to sell their own religion... I mean, come on. If you want to write about something, use your words! Do your own research! I suppose they at least acknowledge the original source this time, and haven't gone so far as to prevent other people from copying text on their own web pages because they don't want people to do to them what they do to others themselves. Like my previous plagiarist did. Twice.

It's still frustrating, though. And fucking rude. I could report the page with a DMCA takedown notice, but that requires giving my personal details, including home address etc, which is then publicly available online, and that sucks. You can be sure that negative comments to the blogger herself are ignored.

Still. Besides updating the original page, I've also added a new page on Tairis with a guide for making the interlaced or interwoven cross. It's an easy cross to make, with a little bit of preparation, and Rosie had a go at making one, too. I tried a simple version with only three strands along the horizontal and vertical (as did Rosie – in the picture below), and then I tried a bigger one with five strands each – that was all I could fit in, based on the length of the rushes.

From what I've read, these are common to Co. Cork, where much of my nan's side of the family come from. The three-armed crosses are common to Co. Antrim, where most of my husband's family come from.

New video! New(ish) article! Daily Rites in Gaelic Polytheism

So as we announced over on the Gaol Naofa site last week (yes I'm way behind on things...), we've got a new video out:

And also a new (or at least improved) Daily Rites article to accompany it, which now has a number of prayers offered in both Gaelic and English translation. To be honest, there was no particular rhyme or reason in choosing to do this particular subject right now, aside from the fact that it seemed like a good idea to continue the more practical theme like our last video on Offerings in Gaelic Polytheism had.

I'm really not sure when the original Daily Rites article was written (I'm pretty sure it was before my time as a member of the GN council), but for the sake of those who prefer the original prayers given there, we've archived that version of the article on the site, and it's cross-referenced to the new version, too. Kathryn took charge of the article's overhaul of the piece, and I think the contrast between the prayers given in the original version, and the ones that Kathryn chose to adapt from the Carmina Gadelica in the new version, gives a good contrast and illustration of how different people have different styles.

When I was first starting to explore CR and then Gaelic Polytheism specifically, the idea of daily prayers seemed kind of restrictive and off-putting. Coming from a completely secular background it was a concept that was alien to me, and it seemed kind of dull... Wouldn't it get boring and become rote? But I kept coming back to the idea for reasons I've never really fully understood, aside from the undeniable urge that I should, and eventually I started looking at the kinds of prayers that were out there, that maybe I could adapt or work with in coming up with some of my own. After a bit of fiddling around I found a routine that felt like it was a good fit, and since I started I've not stopped, really. It was a gradual process as I figured things out, but now I say the same prayers every day (or night...) – at the very least I will pray each night, just as I've got into bed and I'm lying down, since that's most comfortable for me – and it's become an integral part of my bedtime routine now. Even when I'm absolutely exhausted I find it hard to get to sleep until I've said them now.

I think it's important that the prayers we say as part of our practice have meaning to us, and they flow from the heart. My preference is for the more traditional, like the ones we've given in the new article, and the ones I have over on Tairis, but I also tend to add in prayers of my own making, too – off the cuff prayers that aren't poetic, perhaps, but they're no less heartfelt or meaningful. But the traditional types of prayers – the same words I say over and over again from year to year – form the barebones of my daily routine.

I'm sure the idea of a daily routine of prayer doesn't appeal to some people and I don't think it's the only way things should or can be done. For one, there are simple traditions and customs that can become a part of your day, too... It doesn't make anyone lesser, or greater, just because of what they do or don't do, though. Religion isn't a competition or a pissing contest, you know? Or it shouldn't be. I'm sure a lot of people do maintain a daily routine of some sort, even if it doesn't follow a particular outline or isn't even a conscious thing. Maybe somedays or most days the sum total is little more than a mental "hey."

What matters is that it works for the individual, and that – at its core – it helps maintain that connection with An Trì Naomh. It's about being mindful of who you are, who you honour. I've seen some people say they try to keep up a daily routine of some sort but somedays, for whatever reason, it just doesn't happen and then there's a sense of guilt or failure, and it becomes hard to get back into the routine because the sense of whatever starts to snowball... But we're only human, after all. We all have our limits and if it happens, it's OK. If it keeps happening, maybe it's better to scale things back a bit and go easier; don't bite off more than you can chew. At the end of the day... Just do you.

Catching up

We're well past Là Fhèill Brìghde and Là na Caillich but neither went unnoticed for us here. Although given the weather it seems the Cailleach didn't go to her rest without a fight this year...

Since near the end of last year I've been struggling a lot more with chronic pain issues and I'm awaiting the results of another MRI to see if scar tissue from my previous surgery is the problem, or if the disc has just gone caput again (or maybe something else is up...) and will be attending a group physio session, that's intended to help me live within my limitations a little better, in the coming weeks.  All of this – and being busy with other work and some ongoing projects – means I haven't been up to much here on the blog, and celebrations have been scaled back to just about the bare bones lately. As I've written about before, when it comes to being somewhat challenged in the mobility area, it generally means that my devotions are dictated by how much I can handle at the time. I do, but I only do if I can, and as much as I can. And I'm OK with that.

So Là Fhèill Brìghde was pretty low key, although Rosie joined in with enthusiasm and gusto because this is her favourite time of year. I bought a new doll-making kit for us to make our dealbh Brìde with, and invited the kids to join in. Tom wasn't so keen – he's less interested in crafting than Rosie is – so it was just me and Rosie this year. As usual we made a few dollies and picked the one we thought worked best, and this is what we ended up with:

We feasted and sained, and lit some candles for Brìde to put in the window. I offered the honours to the kids, if one of them wanted to the lighting, but they both wanted to do it so we ended up deciding they should do a candle each; they lit, and I said the prayer, then went to invite Brìde in. Rosie was very excited to put our dealbh Brìde to bed, and Tom joined in by arranging a cow next to her.

Then we picked out a few pieces to put out for Brìde to bless on her nighttime rounds – this is serious business for Rosie, because she's taken the idea to heart. Ever since we left her favourite blanket out for Brìde to bless, she's insisted on having it on her bed every night so "Brìde will keep the bad dreams away." The blanket must go under the duvet so it's touching her directly; this is important. So important, in fact, that she didn't want to let go of the blanket for even one night, and even though I told her it's traditional so Brìde can bless it again. In the end we left out a different blanket instead.

The weather was pretty nasty so I put them in the shed, which I left propped open a little, so they'd stay put, but as it happened Mr Seren's plaid ended up on the opposite side of the garden by morning. It was only thanks to the fence post that it didn't get blown away entirely, and Mr Seren was pretty bemused to find his plaid flapping around. I guess it was a good job it wasn't his underwear...

A little later on in the month we went on a big long walk up to the forest I took a walk to last year at Là Fhèill Brìghde. This time I took the kids as well as the dogs and we got there right at the golden hour:

It's been a pretty mild winter but spring seems to have got off to a slow start in spite of the fact that a lot of trees started blossoming even before Hogmanay. Nature seems a little confused lately, and we didn't see many signs of spring on our walk. Plenty of mud, though:

For Là na Caillich we had a pretty vicious storm so we had to hold off on our usual a visit to the beach for the few days, but we got there in the end and made our offerings to the Cailleach and the Cailleachan. Now I'm just waiting for a bit of a dry spell so I can get out in the garden and start tidying things up (though I might have to get a gardener in this year, just to keep on top of the lawn). It's been such a wet winter that the lawn is more bog than anything at the moment and it's going to need resowing in places. Some of the plants I put in around the new pond are going to have to be replaced, too, because they just weren't able to cope with all the rain – I was worried that might happen. I have a gooseberry bush to put in, though, which I'm pretty pleased about (we'll hopefully be able to pick them for Lùnastal, as is traditional, though I'm not anticipating a crop for a while yet), but so far that's it. I haven't thought about what else I'm going to put in but I'm thinking about expanding the containers – bigger ones so I can maybe put a small fruit tree in, too.

So spring is officially here and a quarter of the year is gone already. Hopefully next week I'll be going to Edinburgh to see the Celts exhibition (again).

Vreeshey, Vreeshey, tar gys my thie...

A little bit of a late start to this year's blogging but better late than never, eh?

While I have a wee rest and – finally – a bit of a sit down before I go and welcome Brigid in, I just wanted to share this video (which I saw posted over on The Ever-Living Ones). It's beautifully sung, and timely too:


The lyrics are a traditional invitation to Brigid, which is sung (or recited) on the eve of Laa'l Breeshey (Imbolc) so that she might visit and bless the house and household at night. The original Manx, with translation are:

Vreeshey, Vreeshey, tar gys my thie, 
Tar gys y thie aym noght.  

Vreeshey, Vreeshey, tar, o tar,
Gys y thie aym noght.  

O foshil jee y dorrys da Vreeshey,
Lhig da Vreeshey çheet stiagh. 

Vreeshey, Vreeshey, tar oo
Gys y thie aym noght.

Bridget, Bridget, come to my house,
come to my house tonight. 

Bridget, Bridget, come, oh come,
To my house this night. 

Open the door to Bridget,
and let Bridget come in. 

Bridget, Bridget, come to my house,
come to my house tonight.

As Manx As the Hills posted a version of this a couple of days ago, and included the sheet music and a sound file to help with pronunciation if you'd like to learn it yourself.

Whatever you're doing, and whenever you're celebrating, I hope you have a good one!

Welcoming in the autumn

Usually my festival preparations start with a good clean and tidy up so everything's in order and everything else follows from there. It's not the most glamorous thing to do (or fantsatically scintillating thing to write about) but I like to start the new season with everything as it should be – start things afresh. Inasmuch as I can and according to my abilities at the time.

This time around, though, our Lùnastal-related celebrations were a little more spread out and kind of more disordered than usual, in a way, mostly because we had a mini "staycation" in the week leading up to August 1st and it took some time to recover from Actually Doing Stuff before I was physically up to much again. Much as I would've liked to have done Ireland again this year (and so would we all), we weren't able to book anything because Mr Seren got confirmation of having some time off too late for that, and seeing as he's been working so hard lately he didn't want to have to do too much driving hither and thither, so a week of outings was a good compromise.

We did a water park, a safari park, the Sea Life Centre (otters!), the Science Centre, and, on the day before Lùnastal itself, a we went to an adventure centre where the kids braved a "sky park:"

Rosie was terrified but insisted on doing it anyway, and then being attached to little more than a rope meant that she got so far and then reality sank in and she refused to move because what the hell are we doing we're going to die. The instructor stuck with her and helped her along, and then it was time for the drop:

Which I'm amazed she did, really, because she could've easily walked down the stairs instead. By that point it was a matter of principle, though. Tom loved it and went back eight times until the time slot was up.

They were both very brave and I think such displays of courage were very apt for the festival occasion. The next day we all had a well-earned rest...

Eventually, though, it came time to celebrate, so the house was set in order, and the feast was prepared. I like to try something new every now and then for the festivals, even if it's just simple, so this time I decided to try making a gooseberry fool, which is gooseberries:

That are stewed with a little sugar to sweeten and mixed with lightly whipped cream to give a yummy dessert (fools are a type of syllabub, a ye olde dessert, and so it's related to cranachan, too). They might look like slightly hairy grapes, but don't be fooled (arf), gooseberries are extremely tart on their own. The sugar and cream helps take the edge off:

It doesn't look like much but it really does taste good (you can strain the lumps out if you like but I didn't because it's healthier, dammit).

Aside from bilberries, gooseberries are also traditional to pick for the festival, and seeing as my blueberries never ripen until September in my garden I was tempted to buy a gooseberry bush or two during the summer so I'd have something to harvest (they're supposed to be harvested wild, admittedly, but I've yet to find any gooseberries or bilberries growing wild round here). I held back this year because I want to see how all the potted stuff does before I get too ambitious (it's going OK, so far – no casualties yet), so these ones I bought from the supermarket. I ordered two punnets and got the red ones as well as the green as a surprise, so I ended up making two separate fools to see if there was much of a difference. I've never seen red gooseberries before and apparently they're sweeter, but we all agreed the green variety was much tastier.

Our feast went down very well, over all, and in the evening I sained the house, made my offerings and devotions, and all the usual. It was too cloudy to see any meteors zipping by, but I spent some time outside, just enjoying the quiet and the cool nip in the air.

The next day the kids and I took a day trip to Largs for ice cream and a trip to what the kids call "the seaside park" as an end of summer holidays treat – these ice creams are a very rare treat because they're huge and probably amount to the average weekly calorific intake...

But who the hell cares? I had a hot fudge brownie sundae, and yes. I ate the whole damn lot (and felt rather sick afterwards). Tom and Rosie's sundaes came with British and German flags, respectively, for some reason, so the kids re-enacted World War I by way of flags while demolishing their sundaes. Naturally...

And then, with a bit of time to myself later on, I took the dogs for a walk up to the high point in the village I usually go to for Là Lùnastal, and made some offerings and took the time to contemplate things. Along the way I discovered some raspberries growing wild – they're usually way past their best by August, but the weather has delayed a lot of fruits – so I picked some of those to add to my offerings as well.

It was another quiet celebration for us but it was just what was needed, I think, and the gooseberry fool seemed to go down well as an offering. The kids are now obsessing about when we can go and pick the blackberries...

New video from Gaol Naofa

It's been a good six since months since our last video so we decided it was high time for another one...

This time we decided to focus on offerings, and while it's something we've written about a lot, and at length, it's also something we get questions about frequently. Like our other videos, this latest one is intended to be a brief introduction to the subject, and here we cover a little bit of background about the history and archaeological evidence for offerings, what kind of things can be offered, and how they can be offered:

One thing we didn't really have time to focus on in as much detail as we wanted to was the kind of consideration that needs to be taken when it comes to the potential impact that our offerings might have on the environment, and on local wildlife. An offering that poisons or damages the wildlife is hardly a good offering, right? So as we note in the announcement over on the Gaol Naofa website, it's best to make sure that certain types of food offerings are made well out of reach of wildlife who might take the opportunity for an easy snack and end up getting poisoned. Offerings that can damage the environment – non-biodegradable things attached to trees, which can strangle or stunt the tree's growth, or pennies worked into tree trunks or cracks in stone – should be avoided completely. It may be traditional, but offerings like this:

Only damage the stone. This is a penny worked into a crack in a stone from a Neolithic stone circle on the Isle of Bute (which I took Marsaili to in April when she came over for a visit); the stone itself has now almost cracked into two and things like this will only serve to weaken something that's stood for around five thousand years... Things like this don't honour a place, or the spirits of that place. 

If you want to do some more reading on offerings in Gaelic Polytheism, then I think Gaol Naofa's article on the subject is a good place to start: Offerings in Gaelic Polytheism. This is one of Gaol Naofa's oldest publications, which has been substantially revised and updated over the years. You might also find our Children and Family in Gaelic Polytheism article useful, since it covers the basics of practice broken down into simple terms, and it gives an idea of some prayers you might want to use (one of which we included in the video). For more of an idea on the historical practices involving the making of offerings, there's an article over on Tairis that covers the subject in more detail, and you can also find a breakdown of the kinds of offerings that can be made as well. Finally, over on the Paganachd site, there's KILLYOUANDEATYOU, which is a must read for tips and ideas on how to go about your practice while keeping the spirits of the place happy – especially for Gaelic Polytheists who live outside of Ireland, Scotland, and the Isle of Man.

Image by John McSporran, used under Creative Commons licence.

And finally, the pond

Ever since we visited my sister during the Easter holidays earlier this year, and Rosie spent the best part of a weekend making a whole fishing village for the wee pond in my sister's garden, Rosie's been obsessed with the idea of having one in our garden. A Big One. I quite liked the idea myself – if not for quite the same reasons as Rosie (it's not like I need much of an excuse to find a home for yet more fish) – and it also presented the opportunity to a) tidy up the garden and utilise an otherwise neglected and ugly space, and b) have a rethink about how I use my devotional space outside.

Our garden's layout is kind of awkward – you step out onto a flat patio with some decking and then the lawn is on a terrace about two metres above it, which is accessed by some steps. The lawn itself is mostly on a slope, and the flower bed is wedged up in the top right-hand corner at the back. When we moved in I extended the flower bed a little and put in the rowan and some fruit bushes, along with bits and pieces to create a wee shrine space. There's a tiny pond (or puddle...) and a cairn, and the plants I put in were intended to have some kind of seasonal link, or else were significant to me in some way – plants that remind me of some of my ancestors (those I knew before they died, like grandparents), and some juniper, which I can use for saining. Like so:

As you can see, I'm not the greatest of gardeners. In my enthusiasm to fill up space as quickly as possible I've over planted, and I feel so bad at the thought of thinning the bulbs out (I've nowhere else to put them and gardening shouldn't involve having to kill pretty things!!) they're taking over... It's all thriving, at least, I suppose. Though I'm going to have to thin the bulbs out this year, for sure.

Given the flower bed's situation – right up the top of a hill – it's a wee bit exposed to the neighbours and so the lack of privacy doesn't really encourage me to use it as an active shrine. The ground gets boggy in bad weather, too, which makes getting up there more of an adventure than I'd like. Over the years I've maintained it as much as I can with a view to creating a wildlife-friendly space, with the process of gardening itself being a kind of devotional act of sorts, in memory of my granddad (gardening was his passion). But while I make almost all of my offerings outside, I've always gravitated towards using the patio area, which is more private, instead of using the shrine for that kind of thing, which is what I'd originally intended.

So in committing to getting a pond, the obvious place to put it was just off to one side of the patio, where we have some ugly gravel going from the paving slabs to the fence (I presume it was put in as a moisture trap, so it's probably not something we should take out completely). The previous owners had tried to cover it up with some decking surrounding a gas-powered barbecue, but we didn't use that (too expensive) and the decking was rather worse for wear now, so something needed to be done with it sooner or later.

The soil isn't very deep round here so digging a hole for the pond wasn't going to give us much to work with, and let's face it, Mr Seren – who has a tendency to hiss dramatically at the sun before running back indoors – was never going to commit to digging it himself and it would be way too much for me to do. So instead we chose a raised pond – not the best solution, because I don't think it will be as wildlife friendly, for one, but it's better than nothing. Removing some of the gravel to get down to a flat, smooth surface took a few days or so (which I did myself, so I did it in short bursts, not wanting to over do it), and then it took a few trips to the DIY store to get enough sand to make a safe, flat base to put the pond on. All in all, the pond is about 700 litres (around 150 gallons) when full, but Mr Seren's worried about the mess that would make if it burst, so we're playing it safe, for now, and it's about two thirds full at the moment.

A trip to the garden centre procured some planters and plants to go in. As I did with the flower bed before, I wanted to put in plants that are significant in some way (and will encourage bees etc), but I was less successful in getting the specific ones I wanted this time around; I think it's not the best time of year to start off planting for a lot of the kind of plants that I'm after. I couldn't find any wild primroses for sale, or any wildflowers like cowslips and so on – which are past flowering now – and it's not really the best time to try and sow my own... I've made do with some blue primroses, and bought a couple of poppies (in memory of my granddad), a foxglove (for the spirits), some lavender and rosemary (because I like smelly plants), along with some daisies, an anemone, an astilbe, and... more. I put in some evergreens to give a bit of greenery in the winter, and I managed to find some juniper, too – a common juniper this time. When I got it, I decided to take a walk along the coastal path from the garden centre to the nearest village where I could get the bus home, and I made some cow friends along the way. I took some photos on my phone after the came over to say hello, but I don't have a cable to put them onto my computer... They were more keen on trying to eat the juniper poking out of my bag than saying hello to me, to be honest, but they deigned to allow a quick tickle seeing as it brought the nommy closer to them, and that kept me happy, at least. I'm sure they'll thank me for not giving them an upset stomach in the end, as I'm sure something like juniper would if they tried to eat it...

I also got a rush for the pond, along with another oxygenating plant (a marestail, I think), and some spearwort (sadly already almost completely eaten by a voracious and surprisingly waterproof snail, but there do seem to be some new shoots coming up so I'm hopeful it will pull through). Today we got a waterlily and some fish, and I've moved the more established rushes from the "puddle" as well, to make sure the fish have enough shade and plenty of nooks and crannies to lurk around if they want to. I'll get a replacement for the puddle, but the rushes in there had long overgrown the space anyway, and they were a little worse for wear after Oscar decided their only purpose was for him to rip out of the water and tear around the garden with them.

Bad Dog, Oscar.

Once things are more established, we'll get some pond snails, too, to help keep on top of the algae, although after a couple of weeks now we already have a few water beetles that have moved in and it will be interesting to see what else we might get. Beyond flies and midgies... The local fish shop tends to recommend waiting at least a month before introducing algae eaters, so we should be able to get them in a few weeks. It would be nice to have some frogs, too, so I need to think of a way to allow them to get in and out easily; I'm not sure about piling up stones to allow access, in case they rip the liner, but I'll need to figure that out somehow, and make a nice shallow area to encourage frogspawn/tadpoles eventuall, as well. For now, though, this is what we have:

We got three fish, by the way. One shubunkin, one Sarasa comet, and one yellow (or buttercup) goldfish, mainly to help keep on top of the fly/midgie larvae. And because I like goldfish (I already have 11 fish – three fancy fish, two platys, and five cloud minnows – in two tanks, so Mr Seren is breathing a resigned sigh about the pond at this point). So far only the shubunkin, which Tom chose, has a name, Max the Mutant, because it's mostly blue and white but has one red eye so it's rather distinctive looking. Rosie chose the comet, which is unofficially dubbed "Ghost" at the moment, because it's completely white, but as yet the yellow goldfish remains nameless. She's quite friendly with Ghost, though. Maybe I'll call her Whoopi.

It's all a work in progress, really, but the poppies, lavender and daisy-type plant are already flowering, and the digitalis is just about to. Before we got the pond we also bought a picnic table, so I've moved it beside it all for a comfy spot to sit while I might enjoy the view. It's midgie season right now so the usual times I might want to sit out are right when the midgies are wanting their dinner, but once the weather cools down that shouldn't be a problem.

A while ago I added some links to the Crafts section of the Gaol Naofa library of the website, with ideas for things to do to help make a wildlife-friendly environment for your bioregion. I've been meaning to trawl for more to link and ideas to add (if you have any, please share!), but things like bug hotels and bird baths would be a perfect addition to the space (or up in the flower bed), and the summer holidays is a perfect time to get a project with the kids going. I'm going to look through those and see about what I can do on the cheap, and I'd like to get a bird table, or something, so I can use it for somewhere to put offerings out of the dog's way, and maybe add some more decorations to give some interest once the summer plants start to die back – I couldn't find anything sufficiently tasteful at the garden centre, but Mr Seren thinks that in the absence of an exact replica of the Brigid statue from the well at Kildare (Rosie wishes), we should maybe try to find a peeing Sheela-na-gig water feature... It's kind of tempting, I have to be honest, though I doubt such a thing exists.

For now, until I can get somewhere to allow offerings to be safely made at this spot (I usually put them up on a part of the wall, which terraces the lawn off from the patio, on the other side of the garden where the dogs can't get at them), I can still make libations as I sit. Not pouring them into the pond, obviously. Eventually we'll add some more pots and containers around the pond, too, but for now I want to see how what we've already got will do against the slugs and snails, and what might need repotting next year. I think there'll be a fairly high attrition rate, to be honest, but we'll figure things out, I'm sure. As it is, it's a start, and that in itself provides a focus for me to keep at it and tend to it. Rosie's still figuring out how to make a fish-friendly, but decorative "boat," meanwhile... Priorities, right?

Devotions and disability

For anyone who's followed this blog for a while you'll probably have picked up on the fact that I deal with chronic pain on a daily basis, mainly because of how many variations on "Oooo, me back," I manage to come up with...

I've had problems with my back since I was a teenager, on and off, but after two pregnancies things got considerably worse and the problems more persistent. A brief stint with a chiropractor helped me get back to normal, ish, after I had Rosie, until my back totally crapped out just over four years ago. I wish I could say it crapped out while I was doing something exciting, but I was just sitting at the dining table at the time. Sad but true.

Since then I've had surgery, which helped me walk without aids again, as well as get off the morphine, and I've got a regime of medications that help me manage the day-to-day pain – I'm still on pretty strong painkillers, but not as strong as morphine these days. After this amount of time I have a good idea of the things I can and can't do, and I know my limits. Every now and then something happens because of my own poor judgement or "just because" and I have a bad flare that has me incapacitated and doped up on stronger painkillers and muscle relaxants for weeks at a time, sometimes months, but over all I wouldn't say I'm proper disabled. I'm a part-time cripple, at the most.

I'm painfully (no pun intended) aware of the fact that my problems are chronic and degenerative, though, and this means that eventually my back problems will worsen significantly. At that point further surgery might help, again, but whatever happens I'll always have to deal with the pain and the side-effects of the medications, to some degree or another, as well as the limitations that come with having an Officially Shite Back (or degenerative disc disease, if you prefer). Sometimes those limitations aren't just physical – not being able to push a trolley round the supermarket once it's full, say – but can affect me in other ways.

In particular, it can affect how I might express myself religiously or spiritually. When I plan out what we're going to do for festivals, for example, I have to make sure I don't over do things and try to cram in more than I'm capable of. If I have big ideas then I have to accommodate a bigger timeframe to ensure it gets done. I have to have an idea of things I want (or need) to do, as a bare minimum, as opposed to the optional extras that I might want to do as well – things I can juggle around or postpone in case I'm having a bad day, or whatever. If I need to spread things out over a few days, then that's OK; there's no point trying to battle through the pain and do for the sake of doing, right? And if I need to do something lying down rather than sitting or standing, then that's OK too. Needs must, and all that.

On top of that, I need to think about what I'm going to be doing and whether or not any medication I need to take might affect my ability to do that. For the most part my medications are an essential part of my daily routine that help me keep feeling "normal" now – missing a dose of Tramadol causes withdrawal symptoms, for example, that will have a knock on effect on my ability to sit still – missing a dose or taking it too late means I'll get relentlessly resltess legs and increased pain,  for one thing, which inevitably affects my concentration. But during those times that I might be prescribed extra meds, like muscle relaxants, even the effectiveness of a simple prayer can be affected by having taken a diazepam; drifting off to sleep mid-prayer or being unable to concentrate properly is hardly conducive to being able to be at my most receptive or communicative. So in those cases, timing is important.

So it's all been a bit of a lesson in compromise, and certainly in mindfulness, and it's definitely spurred me on to try and be more adaptable and flexible in my approach. When I was starting out – before the problems kicked in – I'd often concentrate on cramming in as many details as I could, and I'd worry about making sure I got everything done. Having to accommodate a baby, and then a toddler and a baby, helped me relax a bit on that one, and I slowly learned to aim for more realistic plans. It helped me realise (and not without some gentle but sage prodding from those wiser and more experienced than I) that while the doing is an important part of any religious practice, it's not the be all and end all of it. The doing and the details are important, of course, but there has to be a balance. When you start getting so caught up in the details that it starts to overshadow your actual experience, then it's a problem...

On the other hand, however, when you have to be aware of your own limitations it can be easy to get caught up in them, too. It's easy to start obsessing about what might happen and the what ifs... It can be easy to think that there's no point doing this or that because you might suffer for it later... To the point where you end up barely living at all. It seems that maybe the fear of pain, of negative consequences, is often greater than having to deal with actual outcomes. So it can be easy to wallow in those limitations, getting to the point where no real effort is made, and these are all traps I've fallen into at times. At the same time, I won't say I've never made rather stupid decisions in spite of knowing my otherwise sensible limitations, either.

It's all a bit of a delicate balancing act, and I don't think there's any particular right answer. What works for one person may not work for another; what works in one moment might not work in the next. It's a constant, evolving process, and to be fair I think that's the same regardless of your limitations and abilities, or lack thereof. The bottom line, however, is that being somewhat limited in what I can do, at times, it doesn't make my experiences any less real or meaningful to me. It doesn't make them any more real, either, because I'm still me regardless of how capable – physically, mentally or emotionally – I may or may not be at any point in time. What matters to me is that I try, and I do (as much as I am able), regardless. Sometimes I have to accommodate my limitations, or accept that I'm simply not able to do something because of them. Sometimes my inability to do may not be physical per se, but mental, or emotional, for sure.

Ultimately, it also occurs to me that in spite of however I may or may not be likely to end up, I can still appreciate, and be thankful for, the now. On those wallowing days it's something that can be easy to lose sight of. And regardless of however I might end up, physically, it won't prevent me from being able to do something in one way or another. It may, however, take some adjusting, and compromise. Mentally and emotionally, there may be some catching up to do when the time comes, too.

But if there's one thing I've learnt, then it's that I'm more than capable of getting there in the end – wherever "there" might be. My idea of what I should do, of what's necessary as part of a practice that's fulfilling to me, has changed many times over. One size does not fit all.

The belated Bealltainn post...

It's been a quiet month, blogwise here, mostly because I've not been up to much up until recently, and partly because I started writing this post and then kind of forgot to finish it... But as far as the "not being up to much" part goes, I'm making up for that now that I'm a little more mobile. And I have a new macbook to play with! I'm still trying to remember the old shortcuts for everything...

But Bealltainn came and went without much of a hitch. We had to spread things out a little, but there was the requisite cleaning and tidying, followed by the churning and feasting, baking and eating, offerings, devotions, saining, and the making of charms:

We also collected some dandelions from the garden to make a posy:

And that became part of an offering to a nearby rowan when we collected some of the wood.

Thanks to my drug-addled brain convincing me that there are in fact 31 days April, we were a little slow off the mark and most of our celebrations began on the day instead of the eve, but that didn't seem to impact anything negatively; if anything, it gave me more time to myself to get things done while the kids were at school. Somehow, in spite of all the planning and preparation, these things always seem to manage to sneak up on me, anyway...

For our feast we had some roast lamb, which I was intending to serve with some bannocks; I didn't quite have the energy or strength to make them at that point, so the bannocks came a day or so later with some stovies for dinner; I made two lots, one a Fife bannock, one a Brodick bannock. The Brodick bannock is still my favourite:

And best laid plans and all that, but we haven't yet managed to obtain a tree (or raised pond), although we now have a picnic table for the patio (although of course, since we got it it's rained nonstop). We're still intending to get a tree, though it may be a little too late in the season now, but as I've improved, physically, I've managed to get out and about a bit at least. On my travels a few weeks ago the hawthorn was just about to come into flower:

And now its bloom is in full swing. The bluebells are on the wane now, but there's been plenty of it along with the wild garlic, which is extremely fragrant:

And the red campion is starting to come out in full bloom, too:

After the loss of our favourite wooded area to logging a few months ago, my travels have gone further afield to find a new spot:

It's a little less remote and peaceful, but beautiful, nonetheless, and there are lots of little wooden bridges over streams that flow into the burn, and plenty of waterfalls:

On my way home, the dogs and I stopped in at the beach to make some offerings to Manannán, a sort of belated Bealltainn visit which has unofficially rounded off the celebrations. All in all, I got just about everything I wanted to do done, although I didn't succeed in involving the kids as much as I'd like to have – my drug-addled brain's fault, really, but still. Hopefully our Midsummer celebrations will go more according to plan.

New video: New moon

This month's new moon is apparently a "Black Supermoon." The supermoon part means it's going to appear bigger than usual (more noticeable as it rises), the "black" part means that it's either the second new moon in a calendar month (like a blue moon), or to the third new moon of a total of four within a single season period. In this case, it's the latter.

So that's pretty cool. The new moon was on Wednesday or Thursday this week (depending on where you are in the world), but as yet it's been too cloudy to spot it in these here parts. In Gaol Naofa, we observe the new moon, or Gealach Ùr, with a simple ritual to welcome the first sighting of it and honour An Trì Naomh. Since our membership is spread pretty far and wide, it's a way for us to do something together and share in the experience, wherever we might be (if members so wish; participation's completely optional). We generally co-ordinate the observance of this rite for the third day after the new moon, to maximise our chances of being able to catch sight of it.

After our series of videos on the festivals, we decided to focus on other areas of practice, and the first video for this is on the new moon:

Like our other videos, we take a look at the history and lore we find in Gaelic tradition, and then take a brief look at how that informs Gaelic Polytheist practice, and we give an example of a prayer at the end -- this one from the Carmina Gadelica, and translated by Kathryn. There are some more useful links posted in our post on the Gaol Naofa front page, which are worth a read, and we have another announcement there too! 

Moving forward, we're working on some updates and new material for the Gaol Naofa website, which we're aiming to get ready to go in the next month or so. We'll keep you posted!

Accidentally walked up a mountain (and other fun stuff)

Our celebrations for Là Fhèill Brìghde are kind of ongoing here, but we've got the major stuff done. The evening itself was pretty low-key, mainly because my back wasn't up to much and Rosie had got back from a sleepover she'd had at a friend's house and was extremely tired (they were up until 1am and then got up in the morning at around 6am, and for a Rosie who likes her sleep that was just too much), but nonetheless I think it was a success.

Luckily we'd already made our dealbh Brìde last weekend, and I'd bought a beeswax candle-making kit so we could make our own candles to light up the house, too. The instructions came with a few suggestions for different styles of candle, and considering the spring theme, we decided on making some flower-shaped ones. Tom made a water-lily, while Rosie made the rest. ALL OF THEM. She was extremely enthused by the project (Tom was still feeling pretty ill at that point so tired out quickly) and I was too busy helping out to make my own, though I might still have a go with what's left over.

For the icons, Rosie and I made one each -- Tom had wandered off by that point -- with a kit I'd bought, and she spent the next few days making more. She gave some to her friends after taking them in to school so we ended up with two to choose from for the evening itself. In the end Tom decided not to bother having a go at making some this time round.

On the evening, with the house all set in order and a takeaway enjoyed for our feast, we lit the candles with a little ceremony, and then I suggested the kids could go and get ready for bed. Rosie was too tired to be doing much, so I made offerings and got things ready while they were changing. The candles were burning quickly and seeing as I had some time (they take forever to get changed...), I decided to take some photos before all of the candles were gone:

The white one at the back replaced another candle Rosie had made, which burned out too quickly to get a picture of.

Once they came back down I asked the kids to pick which icon we were going to use; Rosie immediately decided on the one she'd made, because the bright orange was more apt for the occasion, so I invited her to take it to the door so we could invite Brìde in. I made the call, inviting the kids to repeat after me if they wanted to, and I repeated each line in English so they knew what I was saying. The weren't too sure about joining in, so I suggested that perhaps they wanted to say something in your own words instead. Rosie couldn't think of anything to say, she was just too tired, really. Tom was a little unsure of himself so he checked to make sure that he had the right idea of what all of this was about, and then he stepped up to the threshold and told the night sky that Brìde is lovely. That is all. I agreed, and added my own words, too.

Then we put the icon to bed on our shrine, and I placed the slatag (wand) beside her. Tom got excited and ran around the kitchen zapping stuff to make the green shoots appear while Rosie leaned in for a cuddle. It was well and truly time for bed, so we didn't do too much more together. Usually I'd do a little story telling and stuff like that, but it just wasn't going to end well this time if I tried too much.

The rest of the evening was pretty quiet. I took some time to make my own devotions before I went to bed, and left some food and drink out for refreshment. Just before I went to bed I put some items out for blessing -- one for each of us, and a towel I use for the animals.

The next morning I got up to find some of the food I'd left out overnight -- well out of the way of sticky fingers or snuffling noses -- had gone, so I'm taking that as a positive sign that we were visited. It was a beautifully bright and sunny day (winter will be with us a while longer, it seems) so I decided the dogs could do with a good long walk. I was going to go to our new favourite spot by the waterfall, but after I got some offerings ready to take with me and I set off I decided to maybe make an adventure of it, so I headed towards the woods where the waterfall is, but kept going up alongside it. We passed some sheep, who I'm guessing are quite heavily pregnant by now:

No lambs yet, though.

I spotted a signpost to a forest (which is news to me), so decided to head that way. Up and up the hill we went, until eventually we got onto a path that took us into a field. There were more sheep there so I kept the dogs on the lead and we kept walking up the hill some more. We've had some snow that's only melted a little -- it's mostly frosted over, really -- so as we got higher up we encountered more and more snow. The forest didn't seem exactly... foresty. So we explored a bit before turning back to take the path to the forest itself, through another gate. There wasn't going to be any livestock here so I let the dogs off and we went along the wide path that cuts through the forest. There are dense bits:

And then heavily deforested bits that give a good view of the area.

And on we went, higher and higher. I'll just see what's around this corner here, I kept thinking, as we went up and up, until soon enough we were right at the top. I couldn't really say if it's an actual mountain, but if it isn't then it must be close. Not quite intended though it might have been, it seemed apt in a way, considering Brìde's name may mean something like "High (Exalted) One." We went pretty high up indeed...

In spite of the frost and snow, there are signs of spring around. Before it snowed the dandelions were starting to wake up around the village, and up on the trail we took there was a lone daisy smiling out at us:

Eventually I decided it was time to turn back seeing as I had no idea where we were going. I left offerings in a few spots on our way back down, and we'd been out so long that it was turning to dusk now so I didn't linger. As we got back to the field the moon had just started peeking out over the hills:

I'd intended to make some crosses with the kids when I got home -- we hadn't managed it the day before because Rosie had been so tired -- but it was a much longer walk than I'd anticipated and I needed a good sit down once I got home. By the time dinner and everything else was done after that, it was too late to be doing much, so for now I've made some myself, and I'll see if the kids want to make some later.

At Midsummer I realised that I had rushes growing out the front of the house, which I used as part of our paying the rents then. They're also perfect for making a cros Bríde, though I don't usually make them like this (lollipop sticks and wool are my go-to materials of choice). But seeing as we have them handy I decided to have a go at making one of the more iconic crosses, like the one I brought back from our trip to Ireland last July. I'd tried making ones like this before out of other kinds of material and I'd found it difficult, so I was anticipating that it might not go so well. As it turned out, it was way less fiddly than I thought it would be:

Although still a bit fiddly, for the tying off, especially (I used the slideshow I linked to in my last post as a guide but didn't have elastic bands as suggested there). But still, it came out OK so I decided to try a three-armed 'triskele' version as well:

I haven't seen any instructions for how to make them but I figured it would be about the same method as the four-armed version, except you'd bend the first rush in half instead of keeping it straight. Things started off a little messily but it came together a little better as I added more rushes and the cross became a bit sturdier.

There are I some things I wanted to do as part of our celebrations but wasn't able to -- there was no double cream at the shops so we couldn't make our own butter, for one -- but I might make a week of it and stretch things out a little so we could do that later.

I'd like to get back into the garden again this year but we'll see how it goes. As the spring wears on I'm going to try and plant some veg, at least, but for now there's going to be a bit of a respite until the ground defrosts... Either way, Brìde is here. And Brìde is most definitely welcome.

Là Fhèill Brìghde links and stuff

Taking a break from getting the house ready for the celebrations this evening, I thought I'd do a quick post with some links and stuff. Last year Gaol Naofa made a video series on the festivals, but the video for Là Fhèill Brìghde came out some months after the fact, so it seems like a good time to repost:

The song we used for this one is a version of Gabhaim Molta Bríde ("I Praise Brigid"), and we have the lyrics on the Gaol Naofa website in the Music section of the Library. When we were making the videos we tried, where possible, to use songs that fit in with the festival or the themes/season, at the very least, and this song is perfect. Another song, if you prefer your songs in Gaelic rather than Irish, is Tha Bainn’ Aig Na Caoraich Uile (All the Sheep Have Milk), which is a puirt a' beul song that ties in with the theme of lambing and sheep's milk at this time of year (traditionally, anyway; most farmers have their sheep lamb a little later, around Easter, these days). The BBC has a video of it being sung from the Mòd Nàiseanta Rìoghail last year.

The video has some ideas for things to do, but if you're looking for something more in depth then there's always the stuff I've done over on Tairis:

Là Fhèill Brìghde
Celebrating Là Fhèill Brìghde (edit: Now available in Portuguese)

And I've also updated the pictures on my Creating a Dealbh Brìde page. We've already made some for tonight, and once we've decided which one we're using we'll be welcoming Brìde in with a traditional call.

For more creative stuff, you could try making a cros Bríd. We usually make ones like this:

Which are pretty simple to make and are in the style of the ones I made as a child. If you want to go for a more traditional style of cros, then there are some good websites and video tutorials around, like:

• How to make a St Brigid's Cross (slideshow)
• How to make a St Brigid's Cross (static page)
• Making a Cros Bríd (video)

And Jane over at The Ever-Living Ones has some fantastic pics of other styles of crosses, too.

Marsaili wrote up a tutorial for some woolly sheep decorations (they're so good!) on her blog that I wanted to try out with the kids. I haven't got round to it yet, having had an unexpectedly busy week, but we'll give them a go at some point I'm sure. We did make some beeswax candles last weekend, which Tom and Rosie did a brilliant job with. We're going to light them tonight, before they go to bed.

With the start of Spring comes the start of the gardening season. We've had snow here recently that's kind of frosted over so I won't be turning over any soil or sowing anything just yet, but once it's time I'll be consecrating the seed in preparation for sowing. Laurel has shared how she does it over on her Unfettered Wood blog.

For food, I'll be churning some butter in a little while with a traditional churning song, and I'm planning on using some of it to make a potato apple cake. The butter milk that's left over from the churning will go towards some drop scones for breakfast tomorrow.

If you're looking for a festive tale to tell, then The Coming of Angus and Bride is always a good one!

The house that Rosie built

Bliadhna mhath ùr! Happy new year, I hope you had a good one...

It's been a while longer than I intended with the first post of the year, but it's been a busy busy start to 2015 here. In amongst trying to get all the useful stuff done, there have been lots and lots of walks with the dogs while I hope - in vain - that Oscar might tire himself out for once, and with the reappearance of my camera charger I've been able to get out and take proper photos again (I'd been using Mr Seren's Canon but I don't like it so much).

So as the winter finally seems to be getting a decent grip there have been lots of bracing walks around the village, a lot of the time spent wending our way through the woods or down to the beach so the dogs can get a good run around without getting into too much trouble. The weather's been pretty rough lately, and so have the seas, so Oscar hasn't had a swim yet. He's not that keen on water at the moment, but he likes to sit and sniff the air and try to look majestic before running off to steal whatever stick Mungo might have found:

And as I walk along the beach, or make my way through the woods, I'll stop to make an offering or two, and say hello to Eddie as I look out to sea. With the storms we've been having, I've been making lots of offerings to the Cailleachan as well. So far they've chosen to spare us, thankfully, barring some minor fence damage back in Novemeber.

Our neighbour, who very kindly fixed the fence for us, told me about a spot just outside of the village that I'd never heard of before. It's nice and quiet, so good for letting the dogs off the lead and not having to worry about Oscar trying to herd cars, so I set off to go and have a look as soon as I could. It's a truly amazing and beautiful place, and I finally got to take some photos to share in the last week. It's quickly become a favourite spot with the kids, too (although Tom isn't as keen because walking).

It's a wooded area with a burn running through it, which is all pebbly and twisty turny, with waterfalls here and there and small streams joining it. The sound of the water trickling along is peaceful and calming, and at the spot closest to the entrance the water is shallow enough to cross so you can find a path to walk along and get further into the woods. To begin with we didn't go far, mainly because Oscar refused to get his feet wet and got upset if Mungo and I went too far away from him. So for our first couple of visits we mostly stayed in the main part closest to the entrance:

It's all pretty desolate and wintry at the moment, but come the spring I expect there'll be some flowers to brighten up the place.

After a few trips Oscar finally decided to brave the water, so for once we got a chance to really explore the woods and I found a much larger waterfall. Not huge, but impressively loud, at least:

Photos can't really do this place justice. I can see a day or two in the summer spent here, having a picnic, paddling around in the cool water, and building little dams with the kids. My nephews will love it here, too, when they come to visit again.

The water must be pretty high given the amount of rain we've been having, and you can see how mossy it all is up on the banks. Oscar likes to bury his face in the carpets of moss, pressing his head into it as far as possible amd snorting and snuffling into it, but it's the mossy tree trunks I love the most:

And the way the light shines onto it and gives it an ethereal glow:

The banks of the burn are very sandy and soft, and when I first brought the kids with me Tom spent most of his time making sandcastles, while Rosie collected a bunch of fir cones and bits of bark to make "houses" for the spirits. Or spiders. Whichever... On our last visit yesterday Rosie decided to fix the house up - the bad weather we've had messed it up a little:

And we left some offerings as we usually do - some nuts, so they'd be woodland creature friendly. Tom had stayed home because he wasn't feeling too good, so it was just me and Rosie this time. I took her to see the waterfall and we had an adventure through the woods (a bit more of an adventure than intended after very nearly losing a boot to the mud). Rosie went looking for bits of bark, which she found floated on the water, so she decided she keep them for boats to leave by the spirit houses; she built a little jetty at the bank of the burn for them as well.

On our way back to the wee house, to leave the boats, Rosie spotted a skull on the floor. I'm not sure what kind of animal it might have come from, but it's pretty cool looking:

After our visit yesterday, Rosie decided to write a poem about her house (I asked her if I could share it here because I think it's pretty good for a seven year old and she's been wanting to start a blog of her own - she's a little too young yet, though. I've given it a bit of punctuation but it's otherwise Rosie's work):

The trees are green
and the door
is yellow and orange. 

There is a flowing stream
to take your boat
out for a spin;
there is bark
for spiders to live in. 

Fire is a place
in a stone triangle;
the stream is long
and blue
with a white touch. 

I've been making
a home for animals;
four nuts for squirrels,
one already open
and one tiny tree.

Auntie Pancake's Samhainn party

Samhainn started early for us here, with a flying visit from my nephews (brought here with my mother, who was on babysitting duties for their half-term holiday). Their journey up here was fraught with difficulties and delays - first mum blew two wheels on her car during an attempt at avoiding a pheasant, and had to postpone her travel plans by a day to get them fixed, and then they got stuck on the motorway after a traffic accident closed the whole northbound side of the road. Then, just as they approached Glasgow as it was getting close to midnight, they discovered that the motorway that would take them to here was closed for the whole night. Mum gave up and got a hotel in the end.

So they got here over a day late in the end, and it put our original plans a little off kilter. The most important order of business for the weekend, however, was going to happen come hell or high water, and you'll have to excuse the poor quality of photos because my camera charger is still missing, so I had to rely on my mother's expertise with her tablet. I'd promised the kids a Hallowe'en party, and aside from the chocolate pancakes (which my youngest nephew insists must happen for breakfast everyday when he comes to visit, and he now calls me Auntie Pancake because he loves them so much, and as far as he's concerned it's probably all I'm good for, but oh well. Who doesn't love a good pancake?), the party was all that had to happen that weekend. It was a little disorganised because I'd hoped to prepare a bit more before we did it, but the kids wouldn't wait. I'd managed to put up some spooky decorations beforehand, at least.

Once mum arrived with the boys we took some time to catch up and have lunch, and mum unloaded the car of all the officially tasteful crap she was offloading on me (I now have a decorative cow bell that needs a home...). She'd brought a photo album of all of her relatives (and some of my dad's) so we took a look through all of those and she told me who they all were and so on. Most of them I'd seen before, but until now they were always just faces in old photos. Mum told stories and memories she had of each of them, and Rosie was especially interested in it all, and found "Gertrude" ridiculously hilarious as far as names go. We spent a good hour looking at all the pictures and talking about family stuff.

I appreciated mum bringing the photos up, and hopefully one day I'll get copies of them so I can make my own album and write stuff down about everyone. I only have a few photos of my grandparents and great-grandparents that I can show the kids, and we look at them each year at Samhainn as part of the ancestral focus for the festivities, so for once we could go a bit further back and now I have a few more names to add to my prayers.

For the kids, though, the best bit is the games and the food, so after an afternoon out we got down to the fun stuff. First of all we had to do the costumes. I'd bought them all matching pyjama onesies with glow-in-the-dark skeletons, so they put those on (even my eldest nephew, who's not so keen on dressing up). Then we had facepainting - Tom opted against it, so he brought his scythe out so he had something "special" for his costume too:

After that we did some lantern carving. I took charge of the tumshie while the kids got on with the pumpkins, and we talked about why we carve lanterns, and why I was carving a tumshie instead of a pumpkin. My mother, who's always insisted Hallowe'en is an American invention, made a point of sniffing loudly in disapproval.

We initially divided the kids into two teams so they could scoop one pumpkin each, but Tom's always been squeamish about pumpkin innards and soon lost interest. Rosie and my youngest nephew eventually decided it was hard work and they'd rather design the faces we were going to carve, so Tom joined in with that instead. My eldest nephew went at the pumpkin guts with gusto, though:

We have a deal now. He's going to come up every year to help.

After we'd got the faces carved, we lit our lanterns with great ceremony (the kids let off Hallowe'en themed party poppers I'd bought them as I lit the lanterns with a quiet prayer), and then we filled the room with candles so it was all atmospheric. While dinner was cooking - just a load of finger foods and stuff like that - we started on the party games. There was the requisite dookin', which my nephews had never done before and who thought it was the best thing ever:

Youngest nephew wasted no time trying to "help" his older brother, as you can see.

After the dookin' and then Lots of Food we had a disco in the dark (so they could see all of their skeletons glowing), and more games, like musical statues and that kind of thing. Eventually we wound things down with Dr Who and popcorn before bedtime.

And that was part one of our celebrations. Part two came the week after, on Oidhche Shamhna itself, and once again the house was tidied and made ready, fresh lanterns were carved in preparation, and I was forced to get up way too early to do Rosie's facepaints so she could look the part in the school parade that day:

Tom was originally going to go as an Enderman from Minecraft (following on from his Minecraft Steve costume last year), but in the end he was rather taken with the scythe and the costume he ended up with, so he went as the "Master of Doom" instead. Rosie went as "Devil Girl," which is based on a personalised character she likes to play in Minecraft.

The kids were keen to go guising that night, and we invited one of Tom's friends to join us - he lives on a quiet street where nothing much goes on, so we offered to take him around. We invited one of Rosie's friends as well (just to be fair), but she was going to her dad's that evening, so the friend's mum invited Rosie round to play and go guising a bit early on their street instead. She returned with a good haul, and she and Tom tucked into some spooky strawberries I'd attempted while they waited for Mr Seren to get home, and for Tom's friend to turn up. A friend sent me a link to some spooky foods, but in the end I only had time for these and some lychee "eyeballs." The kids were impressed, though, although I still suck at piping chocolate:

As it got dark we lit the lanterns and made some offerings to get the evening started, and when the friend turned up we had a bit of a disco while Mr Seren had a few minutes to sit down and take a deep breath after getting home from work. Then they went out, leaving me to hand out treats and do battle with Mungo, who was determined to say hello to everyone no matter how much I tried to keep him out of the way. Doors are trivial obstacles when there are people here to give Mungo fuss.

Most years we have loads of kids come to our door, so I'd prepared a load of goodie bags to hand out in advance so I could stay on top of things and - for once - not have to panic about running out too soon. Obviously that meant that I got about half way through the goodies when it started humping it down outside - it was an absolute torrential downpour. Most people gave up after that so we were stuck with masses of treats leftover, along with all of the goodies the kids brought back.

Going by experience now, I didn't bother cooking a huge meal seeing as the kids would be so loaded on sweets, and tired, by the time they came home. So we just had a wee picnic in the living room, with some fresh bread, cold meats, and finger foods etc. The kids shared their sweets out and traded the ones they didn't like with each other, and we watched a bit of Casper together while they chilled out before bed. I was going to let them stay up so we could have a wee vigil together, past midnight, but they were so exhausted after all the excitement they didn't make it past ten. At least that left me with time to myself, to do some devotions and my own observances without distraction. I was too tired and sore to sain the house, so that happened later on, but a little time for some contemplation was just what I needed.

I woke up early the next day - before dawn - and got up to see the sun rise. It was a little chilly that morning, but pretty still and dry, and I was greeted by the birds swooping around and enjoying the first rays of light. I made some more offerings, putting the food I'd left out overnight for the ancestors, and sained the house later on.

As busy as it all was, it felt like a quiet, but successful celebration this year. The only thing we didn't get done was finishing off a hobhouse that Rosie wanted to make to replace the one she made a while ago. The salt dough we used that time just hasn't lasted, so this time we went with proper clay (I offered to help Tom make one too, but he opted to sculpt a dinosaur instead, to keep a mosaic dinosaur he made recently company). The hobhouse is just waiting to be painted and then put in place, but Rosie's procrastinating on it because she's worried it's going to be horrible and it's all going to go wrong, and the brownie will be unhappy with it. Such is the nature of Rosie. She's been asking to write a blog, though, and while I think she's too young to have her own blog online, publicly, I've suggested that she could write a post about making her hobhouse, which she can post here once it's all done. She's keen to do that and she's also wanting to give the brownie their new home, so hopefully that will happen soon.

New video: Samhain

As soon as the leaves start to change colour, everybody starts getting excited about Samhain...

So continuing on with the series of videos we've been doing on the festival year, we've just finished the latest one in plenty of time for Samhain. This is the longest one to date, but that's because there's just so much to talk about and it's difficult to do it all justice in five minutes or less. Kathryn took the lead on this one and did an amazing job - I think this is my favourite video so far:

We asked people over on the Gaelic Polytheism group to help us out and contribute some photos and we got an amazing response from folks. We couldn't fit everybody's contributions in, but we appreciate every single photo that we received and we hope we can find a home for them in future videos. Thanks to each and every one of you for your support!

Hand in hand with this video I think it's a good time to repost one of the videos we released last time, around Lùnastal:

The Prophecy of the Morrígan from Cath Maige Tuired is as relevant to Samhain as it is to Lùnastal, so it's well worth a watch (again)! Also in our festival playlist, we have a video on turnip carving if you're looking for some pointers; you can find it by clicking on the wee arrow next to the "playlist" link in the top left of the video, then scroll down towards the bottom, or else I've done a walk-through guide over on Tairis. Some links you might find useful:

• Samhainn
• Celebrating Samhainn
• Carving Tumshies
• Samhainn Divination

Those of you in the southern hemisphere might find this video worth watching instead, however, as you head towards Bealltainn:

The Samhain video completes the four Quarter Days in the Gaelic calendar, and we have two more videos to come on Midwinter and Hogmanay traditions to complete the festival year as a whole. After that, we intend to come full circle, as it were, and do a video on the festival year in general (which is probably where we should have started, but oh well!). And then... Who knows? If there are any subjects you'd like us to tackle, that relate to Gaelic Polytheism in some way, feel free to weigh in on the comments!

New videos...

Since we released a bunch of videos earlier this month, which took us up to Midsummer in the festival year, Kathryn and I have been working hard on the next batch so we can get them out in time for Lùnastal.

Picking up where we left off, then, now have a new video for Lùnastal (Lúnasa):

And then tying in with that we have a video on the Prophecy of the Morrígan - Badb's Prayer for Peace:

Following on from that, we get to Là Fhèill Mìcheil, which roughly coincides with the autumnal equinox:

As with the other videos, Lúnasa and Là Fhèill Mìcheil are intended to be a short introduction to the festivals, giving an overview of the historical roots, lore, and practices associated with them. Là Fhèill Mìcheil is primarily celebrated in Scotland, but we also touch on the broader points of the significance of the solstices and equinoxes in Gaelic belief, as well as the customs that are observed in some parts of Ireland at this time. For more information on the festival, you can always take a look at the article I've done on Tairis (link to the archive, because the site is still down - hopefully not for much longer...).

The music we've chosen for the Lúnasa are two different versions of a traditional reaping song, called Buain a' Choirce (lyrics and translation are at the link). The first version, by Martyn Bennett, is a fusion of a more modern musical arrangement, with the song itself sung in the traditional style by his mother, the Scottish folklorist Margaret Bennett, and the rhythm track uses a sample of an old 1920s threshing machine. The second version, by Síleas, is a more traditional rendition over all.

The second video, on Badb's prayer for peace, is intended to tie in with Lúnasa, as well as Samhain, as we explain in the announcement we released over on Gaol Naofa. Lúnasa is the one time of the year where peace is an essential condition of the celebrations and gatherings that are held in honour of Taillte, as Lugh instituted the festival in her memory. We've chosen this particular prayer, as sung by the Morrígan from Cath Maige Tuired, because the tale has many elements that fit in with what Lúnasa is all about, as well as Samhain. Historically, a failure to uphold the peace at Lúnasa would have risked being thrown out of your túath, which was a serious consequence in a time when your legal rights were heavily tied in with your status and standing amongst your people. Without a túath you effectively had no legal rights, making you fair game, basically. Given the seriousness of all this, it's something that we, as Gaelic Polytheists, should think about too.

More videos are still to come, at some point. All that remains to say is another big thank you to everyone who's helped us produce the videos, from those of you who've helped us find music we can use, given us feedback and general support, and those of you who've very generously given us permission to use your photos. In particular, I'd like to thank Ali Isaac for allowing us to use her photo of Taillte's assembly site in our Lúnasa video. Mòran taing!