There was a full moon on the Winter Solstice, an unusual event and not occurring in my lifetime again, so, very special to me.
As my ancestors before me, I celebrate the Solstice, marking the longest night of the year and with the promise of all that lies ahead…
The ritual of fire and feast, music and drink, gathering of family and friends are all important aspects of the Winter Solstice.
The youngest member of my little tribe was here, forming a focal point for us all as we gathered to celebrate.
She is displaying a love for the natural world in her wish to be carried around outside and shown the many aspects of the woodland sanctuary, engaging with me as I show her the trees and birds.
Then, in the blink of an eye, the gathering disappears off to their own homes and further adventures of Yule and I am, once more, alone with Jack, birdsong and the increasing energy of the Otherworld all in and around the cottage.
I venture out to collect a few necessities from town and on my way home am enchanted to pull over the car and embrace the quickening evening.
Dragon’s Breath as is known, moves silently over the fields.
The evening before Christmas Eve is preparing for a quiet slumber in the way in which only happens at this time of year.
Mist is rolling in across the lough.
In the rush that is corporate Christmas, most people have not the time to stop and take in this ethereal beauty…I find myself alone in the blue twilight of an Irish evening in late December.
The days that follow a gathering are eerily silent.
The sheer contrast of it all!
I am reminded of my solitude.
This is a physical solitude, I remind myself, for I am immersed in many lives at Bealtaine Cottage.
Like the time of year, a reminder that days of quickening light lie ahead, when the light and sounds of Spring will make the quiet evenings something to look forward to.
And so I make my way home, immersed in the silence of the land itself, at one with this ancient land, my home.
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Are we part of the consciousness of Mother Earth?
I believe we shape the beauty around us with both our physical selves and our conscious minds.
We often hear the statement, ‘seeing is believing.’
I say, believing is seeing.
Belief in the sentient being that is Mother Earth has formed a major part of the energy that has manifested here.
From the very first time I saw this place I envisioned a cottage in the woods, surrounded by the music of Nature and the beauty of life.
“Man has drawn artificial lines on the chest of the Mother Earth, which have no significance, except for the sake of war and clashes between countries. The soil seems to be the same, the trees the same, the grass the same, and the fragrance of the air, the smell of the earth the same.”
Bread and circuses, but we all know and recognise real life.
It has a colour and fragrance all of its own.
If you would like to support the work of Bealtaine Cottage, completely dependent on people who value what I do, here’s how…
There is something so simple, yet so unique about Goddess Permaculture. 
It’s evident to all who visit Bealtaine Cottage. 
It is the connectedness of everything. 
Earlier today, whilst walking the woodland gardens, I discovered the body of a fox. 
It had come to Bealtaine to die…a safe place, a quiet place where only the birdsong held sway in the shady gardens near the silt pond. 
The beautiful creature had already made itself known to me in the preceding days… 
Sometime last week, in the early hours of the morning, between three and four, I was awoken by a cry and then Jack barking. 
I got up and looked out through the glass of the front door. 
There it was, one of the oldest foxes I had ever seen, quite thin and scraggy, crossing the gravel by the front of the cottage. 
It is rare for me to rise out of bed at that hour, but something drew me to look. 
I now know it was this beautiful, old fox bidding me farewell…one last lap of honour around Bealtaine Cottage, before it laid itself to rest in a quiet, cool spot of safety for it’s final hours. 
I feel honoured that this once beautiful creature chose Bealtaine Cottage to die. 
A place of sanctuary. 
Somewhere, in a world where it was hunted, reviled and pushed out, that it found a place to simply die. 
This evening, as I write, I feel honoured and blessed to have witnessed such a life and peaceful passing.
This is very apt today as I have been in and out of the garden, working and reading…Dictator by Robert Harris, the third and last book in the Cicero trilogy. 
Many of you are aware that I do not have a TV, nor want one, come to that!
Marcus Tullius Cicero was a Roman philosopher, politician, lawyer, orator, political theorist, consul, and constitutionalist. 
It was a time when Roman fought Roman and the fabric of society was torn apart. 
But, to return to the quote above…Cicero had life sorted in my opinion. 
There is a background noise that seems to permeate home life, emanating from TVs, computers and screens linked to the internet. 
Creating a private space where you can go to read, write, pursue a craft, or simply unwind is a positive step towards establishing good mental health and physical relaxation, in other words, a body and mind space! 
The words of Cicero are particularly relevant today as society seems to struggle to keep a grip on sanity and calm. 
