Yesterday was Imbolc, the Celtic holiday celebrating the Goddess Bride or Brigit. Imbolc refers to the lactation of ewes, the flow of milk that heralds the return of the spring, the signs of new life beginning to appear.
I had meant to post yesterday, but time slipped by. So, in the spirit of the unofficial start of spring, I will add two short thoughts in this post. Over the last two weeks, my writing / editing class has been tasked with some descriptive assignments. The first is to describe a tree in 1 to 6 sentences, the second is to describe a geographical location using the same criteria. Immediately, Ireland came to mind. My eyes have seen the glory of Ireland in the spring. Here are my two assignments, I hope you enjoy:
Describe a tree:
The lone hawthorn’s white blooms billowed in the brisk sea breeze. A pungent scent like sweet, decaying flesh mixed with the salty tang. Gnarled branches wove up from the bark-rough trunk, twisting toward the cobalt sky. Pastel colored ribbons tied on each branch nub waved like lace handkerchiefs from the dainty fingers of tearful brides.
Describe a geographic location:
Low stone walls crisscross the emerald green pastures like a well-played chess board. Castles, horse farms, monastic ruins, stone circles, and burial tombs for long-ago kings and queens lay scattered over the land. Thatched roof houses and music infused pubs are as common as pawns. Sheep bleat and cows moo to the tune of the wind and waves crashing against the rugged Cliffs of Moher. Gray storm clouds and heavy splatters of rain intermix with cobalt blue and white StayPuff marshmallow filled skies to form rainbows with pots of gold at each end.