We’re halfway there. Halfway between Winter Solstice and Spring Equinox. We feasted; we communed around a bonfire in the crisp midwinter air. A dancing constellation of stars above to hear our wintery wishes and forest critters amid that encouraged whispered prayers into the blackness. Imbolc, right in the belly, paying homage to St. Brigid with the expectation of the upcoming growing season to be a prosperous one and to our limitlessness expectations.