In honour of the festival of Imbolc, which honours Brigid, the Celtic goddess of fire and the hearth. (Last year’s Imbolc post here.) I like to think this is the kind of thing the goddess dreams of tonight as she shifts in her deep, cold sleep. I’m not much of a firesmith. I’m a Virgo with Taurus rising, all earth through and through. I guess maybe all that earth just tamps down whatever fire there might be. But I’m both fascinated and terrified by fire. Terrified: Charred re

The last dying light of the day and the world is utterly still. A bubble of absolute silence within and underneath distant traffic noise. At this distance, it could be the sound of surf. It doesn’t matter. Here, right here, it’s so quiet I can hear the great blue heron feeding a long wing feather through that impossible beak as she grooms herself. She just landed moments ago, in that awkward way they have, all gangly stick legs that somehow never tangle in the branches as the