Gently Waking With Friends

Imbolc, snowdrops, and birdsong

Hello my friends,

Have you felt it? The subtle waking of the earth. In the North we have welcomed Imbolc, the first day of spring in the Celtic calendar. While the warmth of spring feels far away, there are signs that something is shifting. Snowdrops are here, birdsong is growing louder, and there is a soft hum of energy returning. What rested through the winter is beginning to emerge, myself included.

It feels like coming back into your body after a beautiful yoga nidra. You wiggle your fingers and toes and slowly return to yourself. With the pull of the full moon as well, it felt like an intense and meaningful coming together of energies.

This sense of awakening carried into a wonderful weekend spent with friends, both old and new, on a DIY retreat. Something I highly recommend, whether shared with others or taken solo. Stepping off the hamster wheel allows space to nourish yourself with the things that bring you joy and remind you of who you are.

Feeling held by that space and by the people within it, I was compelled to express my gratitude to this powerful tribe. So I tried my hand at an ode.

As I have mentioned in previous posts, I am deeply grateful to have such a strong circle of supportive women by my side. Not all were at this gathering, but their presence is felt all the same.

I hope you too have a support crew that holds you steady, and that you can see and feel the goodness in those around you.

Big hugs from the croft xx

An Ode to an Awesome Bunch of Women

There was an awesome bunch of women
who gathered for a while,
not long in days,
but deep in time.
What followed was a weekend
stitched together with care,
a small and shining miracle
we made by being there.

Each came bearing magic,
gifts both seen and felt,
a co creation of something rare
where presence was the wealth.
Phones were gently laid aside,
attention fully given,
and in that simple choice
the door swung wide to living.

Two arrived down from the city,
wearing shoes absurdly bold,
perfect for Edinburgh streets,
less so for the bogs and the cold.
Another came from Thurso,
who really should have known,
to wisely bring her waterproof runners,
prepared for mud and rain.

There was a gentle soul from Ireland,
thankful she made it without her glasses.
She spoke of St Brigid,
who inspired us to be badasses.

A table bloomed like something dreamed,
linen, greenery, candlelight,
crystal carried on the train
as if beauty were a right.
Grapes appeared,
edible art, divine,
and a bottle of foraged goodness
as though brewed by elves in pine.

We ate pancakes, chimichurri,
cake in generous supply,
all managed by a food captain
who made the timings fly.
Some ran early through the mud,
the wind a ruthless friend,
not a competition at all,
though one thought it might depend.

We screamed our way into the sea
while seals looked on amazed.
What strange land creatures be these?
They are so not brave.

We drank tea and shared scones,
then a sauna warmed our bones,
a quiet, sacred space.
Listen close, it whispered,
and you might hear your heart’s own pace.

The fire crackled, stories rose,
soft music filled the room.
They knew me well, no late night bash,
lights out by ten. Perfection. Boom.

Above it all, a steady love,
support both fierce and kind,
and a meditation gently said
that home is a state of mind.

I am overwhelmed by luck like this,
by hearts so open, true,
a gathered tribe I thankfully acquired.

Too soon the goodbyes found us,
as they always will,
but we left with something better still,
memories, our prize, our fill.