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Rated: E · Short Story · Entertainment · #1507986
Loosely based on what might have been done on Mother's Night in the 700 CE.
                              Winter’s Long Night 


The darkness of the night set in. Luminous snow only a lighter shade of blue where there were no shadows. Ancient pines sweep the mantle that lies below them. Tiny birds fluffed sleeping in black green branches cloaked in pale cerulean.

The harvest had been good this year and it was time to celebrate. The mistletoe cut on Midsummer’s day by a golden blade hung above the door to protect the household. I smile as I looked upon my little family and feel the childlife within me stir. Tonight is Mother’s Night we will eat well.

I have hung the holly and the ivy. Old candles will be extinguished and new tallow candles will be lit tonight to celebrate the turning of the night. Tomorrow the night will be shorter---

As I start the branch of last years Yule oak, I burn away the old year and start the new. I repeat the chant my mother taught me-“As this new light kindles, the sun turns in her path. The New Year begins and the old burns away. The cycle of life renews, death and rebirth continues. Every end is the beginning of the new.”
 
I thank the Goddesses, the Morrigan; mother Earth for all I am. 

My man wraps his arms around and holds me close. The New Year will begin and I will give birth.

I will rejoice.
                                   
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