Mid-winter
NEWSLETTER Volume 4, Number 2, February 2007
As I write this month’s column it is mid-winter, the exact point mid-way
between the winter solstice and the vernal equinox. The Celts call this time Imbolc
or Oimelc, both names which refer to the lactation of ewes, the new milk which
signals the return of the life-giving forces of spring. For people living in northern
climes, February may be the shortest month of the year, but it can feel like the
longest. The ancient Celts called this month, the Dead month. And yet, if we look
carefully, there is much of interest going on in February and in the midst of
the cold and dark, there are signs of the spring to come.
Recently I was re-reading a section of Clarissa Pinkola-Estes wonderful book,
Women Who Run With the Wolves and I wanted to share this quotation with you:
“There is human time and there is wild time. When I was a child in the
north woods, before I learned there were four seasons to the year, I thought there
were dozens: the time of nighttime thunderstorm, heat lightning time, bonfires-in-the-woods
time, blood-on-the-snow time, the times of ice trees, bowing trees, crying trees,
shimmering trees, breaded trees, waving-at-the-tops-only trees, and trees-drop-their-babies
time. I loved the seasons of diamond snow, steaming snow, squeaking snow, and
even dirty snow and stone snow, for these meant the time of flower blossoms on
the river was coming,
These seasons were like important and holy visitors and each sent its harbingers:
pinecones open, pinecones closed, the smell of leaf rot, the smell of rain coming,
crackling hair, lank hair, bushy hair, doors loose, doors tight, doors that won’t
shut at all, windowpanes covered with wet petals, windowpanes covered with yellow
pollen, windowpanes pecked with sap gum. And our own skin had its cycles too:
parched, sweaty, gritty, sunburned, soft...”
I was stunned when I read that passage because it sounded like a description of
my thoughts the last month. It has been very cold these past few weeks and so
the doors that normal slide easily on my barn have been stuck open, the snow has
gone through its many phases, and my skin and hair have reflected every one of
them!
What does all this have to do with horses? Well, if it weren’t for my horses
I wouldn’t be in touch with all the wonderful nuances of nature at this
time of year. Horses live on wild time, not human time and, if we let them, they
take us to that wild place. It is easy to get angry at things that don’t
function like they should and perhaps even easier to do what many people do in
mid-winter, just ignore it all and stay indoors. But horses don’t let you
do that, and I’ve found that they have a whole world to share with us, and
stories to tell. So this winter I’ve been watching them closely. They tell
me when a storm is coming, they tell me what snow they like to play in and which
snow is good for rolling in, they say which conditions of snow and ice they don’t
like to walk in. Their hair makes subtle changes through the many seasons as do
their hooves, and they notice each sign of change, they hear and smell a myriad
stories that blow in on the winter winds. I know which nights I’ll have
to turn the light outside the barn on and which nights I won’t because of
the cycle of the moon. And I sense in the mood of my head a hint of the life of
spring in the darkness of winter. As another Celt, Edna O’Brien, wrote:
“In a way winter is the real spring, the time when the inner things happen,
the resurge of nature.”
Anna Banks, Editor womentalkhorses.com
editor@womentalkhorses.com
Moon Hill Ranch, Idaho