The dawns light streaming through the loft window awoke Nymue'. From here she could see the first rays of light streaming across the newly frozen lake. Was it her imagination or did the stream of sunlight really follow the ley line crossing the lake? Downstairs Gandolf had already fixed the coffee and a cup of Nym' favorite tea, she knew by the time she descended the stairs he would have breakfast ready and the fireplace ablaze. By days end this cottage on the lake would be filled with the love and laughter of many. Tonight the celebration of the Snow Moon would take place in this special spot. A place of overwhelming energy, on the dragons spine, the heart of a powerful ley line. A place filled with warmth, love and memory. On this site, a generation ago, her husband's father built this cottage of cedar and pine as a gift to his wife. The crisp cold air of the mountains of Maine and the frozen spring fed lake made a perfect setting for the evening. Nym' knew the only way to calm and center herself for the nights circle was to retreat to the shelter of the pines. Here she could gather pinecones to take back to the circle tonight... The pine trees here seem to dwarf the pines of her home in Maryland.

As she thought about this she whispered a silent thanks to the Lord and Lady for the good fortune that has allowed them to keep their Maine retreat. As she entered the now silent meadow surround by pine tall trees, seemly asleep for the winter , she remembered it's summer splendor... daisies, lilies and other wildflowers grew here freely. A playground for birds and small creatures. The morning light was giving way to the power of the winter's sun, the only thing missing from this winter wonderland was snow. The smell of burning Oak and Cedar filled the air from nearby cabins. The deer tracks from the night before where still fresh, Nym' wondered... I've been coming here for three years now... will I ever see a Moose???

Turning back to the now desolate forest, she spotted a lone Owl keeping watch. Nymue' felt one with the rich darkness of the woods. Snow... if only it would snow she thought... and off flew the Owl, as if to carry her wishes to those that watch. In her absence Gandolf has prepared the fire for tonight's circle. A basket is placed out of harms way filled with the herbs to be used. He was careful to place the willow basket to far for the flames to lick. Nym' know that her workings and those of her those of her brothers and sisters here tonight where still a mystery to her dearest husband, but he had always watched with interest from a respectful distance. His Taoist beliefs where not that far from her own after all. The large rock between the porch and pier was a natural alter. The opening in the yard just the right size for the gathering. Holly and Ivy surround the rock, a bundle of rosemary was placed before the tall white candle.

As Nym' approached the cabin the first snowflakes began to fall... Nym' remembered sitting in this same spot 6 months ago, listening to the calling of the loons and watching the meteor shower. Remembering the love and trust of those that gathered here last summer. This was a place of peace, joy and healing. She looked surprised to see the fullness of the Moon appearing overheard, not realizing, once again... how lost in thought and time she was in the enchantment of the Maine Mountains she loved so much. The day had quickly passed she thought , peering up at the fullness of the moon knowing it was full of hope and possibilities. It was time to go inside and ready things for her visitors , she knew they would be cold and hungry when they arrived. Steaming pots of Hot Buttered Rum, Crocks of Brunswick Stew with loaves of homemade bread will be just the thing for this cold winter night. Now where was that crock of fresh honey butter Amanda had made? Ah yes... there is next to the last of the summers blueberry jam. Nymue' wondered... at this time of holidays and family celebration... how many will be able to make the trip?

Before long , her question is answered, friends old and new begin to arrive. Each person gathered picks a single white candle from the basket carefully laid out. Candles are lit by passing one flame to light the next. All gather in a circle around the alter stone by the side of the frozen lake, while the snow silently falls, placing the candles in the newly fallen snow behind each of them. In a sunwise direction all join hands one at a time .

Nymue' steps to the center and approaches the altar. She lights the candles, and incense, and sprinkles a pinch of salt into the chalice . >From beneath her cloak of midnight, she produces a bell and rod. Slowly walking around the circle three times; once as maiden, once as mother, once as crone, she runs the rosewood rod around the base of the bell. The sound builds slowly, hauntingly, spiraling, rising in pitch and volume while she says :

"Black spirits and white
Red spirits and gray
Hearken to the rune I say.
Four points of the circle, weave the spell,
East, South, West, North, your tale to tell.
East is for red for the break of the day,
South is white for the noontide hour,
In the West is twilight gray,
And North is black for the place of power.
Three times round the circle's cast.
Great ones, spirits from the past,
Witness it and guard it fast."
The song of the bells fades as gradually as it rose.
"I bless thee and consecrate thee,
a boundary between the world of Men
and the Realm of the Mighty Ones;
in the names of the Lord and Lady.
So Mote it be!"

...Nymue' returns to her place and awaits the first watchtower...

...Annie hoped that none had taken offense when she arrived at the cabin - that she had remained so aloof. She was struggling a bit with knowledge gained and that which had eluded, and that which contradicted and expressed itself on pages so dusty that only a word broke through, here and there to intrigue but did not clarify. Once she thought she had grasped the import of a series of thoughts, but further investigation revealed that it was only the bibliography, telling where one might seek, a beginning.

Nym had asked that she call East, Dawn, and Annie suddenly realized that she might not ever have seen "Dawn". That was startling. That awoke.

On the drive up, snowflakes struck the windshield of her car, then were transformed to mush or swept away by the motion of the blades. Did they stop being snowflakes? Did they stop being water? Did the light that illumined make them snowflakes. Did the Earth that called them define their path? Did the air that danced them question or support their journey? Air revealed itself in action on "other", but remained to itself initiator. Where did air separate itself from the one it carried?

As each flake landed like mystical paratroopers on the glass before her, Annie wondered, was this the beginning or cessation of their travels? The cycle of water would reclaim them no doubt, but where did one start and one end. Was this their death as they were dislodged from the stream of air, or their beginning as they sought the flow of the ocean. So much of life intertwined this way, not one separate from the other; not one element that did not lie with another in intimate liaison that created the whole.

Oh... silly Annie.

She had for some nights sat to see if she could catch Dawn and report back. Once light had stroked night with the loving awakening fingers of day, she feared she had missed the moment. Within the dark she was challenged by internal departures from incarnate passions and she knew this was not Dawn.

Then one night as she groggily held her consciousness just on the verge of withdrawal, night collided with day in a blazing red stretch across the horizon. Not the washed hues as light proceeded, but the glaring tip of a cigarette after lovers meet... and it walked the blackness in its vastness and for an instant Annie had stood there on its avenue.

One last look in the long mirror that graced the great room of Nym's cabin and Annie would join the others who had come so far. She tugged at her hair, not sure if she looked more like Rod Stewart or an old Wolf with missing patches of sheltering fur after an already long season. Either way it was time to rock n roll.

Annie stepped into the circle of candles and as Nymue signaled the calling of quarters to begin, it occurred to Annie to simply follow suit. To simply "be" within the circle that Nym had prepared and meet the steps as Nym asked. To know one's path seems to clear the way.

Ye Ancients of the East, of Air and Dawn's first light, with clarity and beginning, be with us this night. Hail and Welcome.

Annie returned to the circle to await...

...Morrigan, whose old leather boots squeaked and crunched through the snow on their way up to the altar. She lit the candle Nym had given her and, returning to the southern quarter, she placed it on the stone marker. The flame dipped and sputtered a bit in the damp winter air, then strengthened, swelling into a yellow orange tear drop. Morrigan could feel it's heat on her face as she bent over it, staring, centering herself. She stood up and gazed around her at all the people gathered, feeling the connections, some old and strong, some new and tenuous, some barely a whispering thread. She pulled all those threads together and turned to the south, her arms spread out in greeting.

"Spirits of the South, I call you to join us in our dance this night. Keepers of Fire and safety, warm our hearts as you do our hearths. And if it be your will, lend your passion to our work. We welcome you."

Morrigan turned again to face the circle and await...

…Cloud, who like Annie had been struck by the water cycle of late. Melting, merging, rebirthing as raindrops or snowflakes and nurturing all in their way, the molecules go on... She shook prodigious snow out of her flyaway hair, thought something confusing about being new to this circle, remembered something about re-forming groups of molecules, chanted in her head about drops of rain flowing to the ocean, looked around and saw LOTS of familiar faces, and finally... got ON with it!, and moved to the West, where she stood a moment feeling the connections between snow here and rain there, and great crashing waves somewhere else. Her hands flowed accustomed dances of drop and flow, and her voice, for once, was gentle:

*Hail, powers of the west, first water of Water, raindrops and IV's and irrigation ditches and little melt creeks and oceans: bloodstream of the world, you carry our lives, our changes and our love to where they belong; we call you now to carry our hopes into a new time, our lives into new life. Be here, now. Blessed be** and the snow swirls and the world pulses, and Cloud returns to her place to await...

...Rowan steps into the circle draped in a purple wool cloak. The wind picks up at this instance, causing the snow to swirl around her figure. The snow flakes take on a life of their own, as the gust of wind lifts them into a sacred dance, that of the spiral. This same gust of wind causes her cloak to blow open and reveals that she is garbed in black and the deepest of greens. Her attire is that of the Patroness she loves so much, she is of the wood, the huntress. To her right is her lifelong companion, the wolf. He walks beside her, yet slightly ahead of her. He is her protector, always alert. On her left shoulder is a snow white owl , her companion of the North quarter. In her left hand she holds her dragon headed staff.

She glides to the altar with her faithful companions. From a deerskin pouch at her waist, she removes a pine cone that has been collected on her way to join her friends. She also removes a green candle from this same pouch and places them both on the altar in the North. She lights the candle and turns, facing the North, extending her left hand to her side still holding her treasured staff, and raises her right arm, extending it to her side, palm up.

"Hail, Guardians of the Watchtowers of North, Powers of Earth! We call upon you this night, in perfect love and perfect trust. We invoke you and request your presence to protect us during our rites this night of the Snow Moon.. Hail and Merry Meet."

Rowan turns back toward the circle but before taking her place among those she has grown to love, she moves to her sister, Nym'. She kisses each of her cheeks and briefly embraces her. She admires this woman greatly, for not only is she her sister and friend, but someone whom represents the things she wishes to have for herself. Nym' is a mother, wife and teacher of many, and these are the things that Rowan aspires to become herself. But there is still someone missing from this beautiful night. As she moves to take her place in the circle, she sends her thoughts out to her dearest friend, her soul sister. She is beckoning to her to make her presence known, for if Druantia were to arrive for the rites, the night would be more than perfect...

...As Nymue' returns to the center , placing a wreath of Holly around the candle, snow begins to fall heavier. The hood of her robe thrown back, to let her red curls fall freely, snow quietly resting there. A circle of moonstones at her throat and a sprig of Holly in her hair. She looks at the emerald upon her finger, a reminder of her union to her husband, a bind through life and beyond. The joining of husband and wife , a reflection of male to female, God to Goddess. The union of two to be one...

The night becomes strangely silent except for the cracking of the fire. She raises her arms and say's : O gracious God; Lord of the Hunt, Fields and Forests Lord of Power of the Light Join us and your Lady here. Hear the words of the Dancing God, the music whose laughter stirs the winds, whose voice calls the seasons.

She softly begins to sing :

I danced in the morning when the world was begun
I danced with the moon and the stars and the su
n I was called from the darkness by the song of the earth
I joined in the singing and She gave me birth
Dance, dance, wherever you may be
I am the Lord of the Dance said He.

The fire leaps higher sending brilliant light, and there illuminated by the flame, in the midst of the virgin snow, stands a stag. Powerful, majestic, knowing... he stares in recognition at those gathered. Nymue' bows her head slightly saying: Master of beasts wild and free, we greet you at the waxing of the moons power. Come forth honored one and join us in this full moon rite. The stag remains motionless and certain.

...Druantia stops suddenly as she hears the distant cry of a wolf carried upon the icy winds from the North. She shivers as the chill of Winter touches her skin that her deep dark green cloak does not shield. The wolf has come to her many times in the past, bringing gifts of love and friendship with each visit. Wondering what treasure she will find on this glorious night of the Full Moon, she journeys deeper into the woods . Guided by the spirits of the forest, Druantia travels with ease upon the snow-covered ground. The scent of the pines fills her nostrils and the music of Nature fills her ears.

As she comes to a clearing, her senses are assaulted by strange, yet familiar smells, sounds and sights. Smoke flows in an upward spiral filling the air with the most pleasant aroma. Voices of those near and dear to her, fill her heart with delight. The glow of the fire lights the faces of those she has known for some time and many that she has not met until this night.

Spotting one of her nearest and dearest friends, she quietly joins her in the circle as Nym and Jo, two other dear friends, invoke the Gods. With a candle in one hand and Rowan's hand in the other, she gives silent thanks to the Gods for joining her with friends, both old and new on this eve.

Stepping to the center, she lays a small pouch on the altar. It's contents include an acorn, lavender flowers, a coin, dried rose petals and an amethyst stone. Raising her face to gaze at the light of the moon , she says aloud...

"Lord and Lady, on this second night of the newborn year, I ask for blessings of protection, joy, prosperity, love and good health for the upcoming year and always. So mote it be."

Druantia takes her place within the circle once again...

...After a long silence, Jo steps forward.

She too circles the fire and can't help noticing that as the flames so brightly burn, so does the reflection of the flames in the eyes of her brothers and sisters and she smiles, wondering if indeed the flames burn brighter within them than in the fire itself.

Though snow is falling and there is ice on the branches of the trees she wears no cloak. She does not feel the cold though the wind blows. She draws her warmth from the energy of the circle.

After a few small moments of meditation she speaks:

We call upon you Goddess Mother to us all. Here your children stand united under this Full Moon, Sisters and Brothers are we. Part of you as you are part of us.

Tonight you are Snow Queen, you are Ice Maiden. We honor you and the life you give to the earth and to us. We gaze upon the majesty of this night in the light of the moon and invoke you to join us in this circle.

Mother of all things, timeless and ageless as you are,
Where there is cold, bring us heat,
Where there is dark, bring us light,
Where there is sadness, bring joy,
Where there is loneliness, bring friendship,
For all things change, in death there is rebirth,
In loss there is replenishment
And after this Winter there will be Spring
And we will be blessed with new life.
Goddess Earth, hear us
And be with us tonight.

Jo lifted her hands up to the sky, her fingers adorned with many silver rings that shone in the moonlight. She spread her arms in a gesture of love and friendship to all in the circle, and joined them once more...

...Nymue' returned to the alter stone, not quite sure what was drawing her back, just a voice within KNOWING that she was thankful for the wonderful gift of the enchanted night. She stood watching for a moment at the night sky... the snow continued to fall. The first snow of the season always made her laugh, she didn't quite know why... then she realized, and watched.

The snowflakes drifting silently towards the fire, appearing to get caught up in a wild game of tag with the flames... falling, then veering away. THIS was the gift of The Lord and Lady she treasured most... not the snow itself, but what it represented to her... JOY! The lightness and purity of the new fallen snow... it drifts and swirls like the stages of our lives... changing, fleeting... sometimes pure... at times becoming gray with wear.

But when it leaves Nym' is never left with a sadness, just a surety that it WILL come again. Never again exactly the same, but none the less priceless, exciting, unpredictable and fun. The same qualities of life she loves so much. As Nym releases an inaudible laugh... she takes a moment to scoop up the fresh snow on the alter stone... feeling it's newness. Nymue' draws her cape closer around and looks up to the luminous moon shining though the snowy sky and offers words of thanks.

As she turns back around , drawing her hand from within the folds of her cape. In her moment of silence, hidden from the sight of the others... she had been crafting a bit of fun. Nymue' suddenly turns to MoonListener, who had been so quietly hiding in the shadows ... the snowball goes flying SPLAT!!! She quickly retreats to her place between River and Rowan, just slightly back out of range. And waits...

...Owl stands for a moment is shocked amazement as a snowball goes whizzing just past her nose!!! OH MY!! The irreverence!! The utter disregard for pageantry and solemnity!! Whipping the folds of her cloak over her shoulders she steps purposely forward, glaring at Nymue, and casting wicked looks at others who seem to be on the verge of merriment. Hmmpff!! Approaching the Altar, Owl holds out her hands and catches the falling flakes of whirling snow. Composing her features, and having a bit of difficulty in grounding and centering, she speaks softly to the God and Goddess ... Mother, Father, you who are with me in joy and sadness .. I thank you for the gift of humor and natural magick. I would ask that friendships grow, and plans made in your honor bear wonderful fruits for all here tonight. May the dreams become reality .. may the hopes be fulfilled .. and let my aim be true ... and with that, she stoops swiftly, grabbing a huge handful of snow .. packing it swiftly, she turns .. cloak flying in the wind .. and lets the SNOWBALL fly!! then scurries quickly to safety using Meli and Lady Green as shields... And waits...

...Arcadia, head down, eyes upward, watching for the nearest white object to go flying past her head, chuckles and moves toward the altar... From the folds of her robe, she take an icy crystal, and places it upon the Altar...

" Lady, Mother of All, I stand here in Circle, and give thanks for the family that surrounds me... the mirth and reverence shown here is proof our your love for us, in the spirit of these fine people... I give thanks for the direction my life has taken... the thrill of learning and teaching that has been place upon my path... I give thanks for the love and understanding of my family, the acceptance they showed this holiday season of the path I have chosen for my life...

I give thanks for the good health of my family, and the improvement of my own disease in the past few weeks, may it continue to show such positive signs of healing... And finally, and most importantly, I give thanks for your love, patience and understanding...

Arcadia whispers a blessing directed to all who surround her, and returns to her place in circle to wait...

...Ramoth approaches the altar stone slowly, lost in the wonderment surrounding her. The swirling snow gathers for a suspended moment in time before her eyes and then whirls away as if blown by the breath of the God.

From beneath her cloak, Ramoth takes a small handful of winters' berries and places them on the altar. She knows that those around her are her new friends, mentors and teachers and silently thanks the Goddess for finding them. The past year has held many tragic moments, but many joyful and magickal ones also. It has proven that the Wheel does indeed keep turning round and round. Ramoth spends a quiet moment before the altar contemplating all that she has learned o.ver these past cycles of the Moon and thanking the Goddess for letting her feet finally find the Path that she has sought all these years, and, then, when she can wait no longer...

Ramoth turns and, with a swift movement toward the ground, gathers the snow, packs the snow and lets fly her contribution to the merriment she feels bubbling up within her friends. As a small giggle escapes her lips, she walks quickly back to her place within the Circle and waits...

...Nancy has been content to stand and watch during this night's circle, until now. She solemnly steps forward, her soft boots crunching through the sparkling snow. With her heavy cloak wrapped tightly about her for warmth, she slowly bends over and shapes an orb of the white ice crystals, then grasping her staff, with it's multi-colored feathers fluttering in the breeze, she tosses the snowball and smacks a high fly ball! As it flashes across the circle and over the fire, she quickly resumes her place and waits...

...now Red Deer, shivering a bit and thus with bells a tingling, simply remains in his place in this circle. Content for now to feel the warmth of friends and the fire of our Lady and Lord, he glances about him at those gathered - both seen and unseen by each other. A silent thought for peace, love and prosperity he sends about the circle through the covener upon his left - then waits for its return from the one upon his right and for whomever might next step forward...

...which turns out to be Cloud, who reaches into her capacious pockets and pulls out a little airplane, which she places on the altar in gratitude for safe and uneventful flights last week (and perhaps the good sense to be safe home before the snow started) After a moment to bask in the fire's warmth and the friends around her, well... speaking of snow, she shapes a glittering orb and lets fly, ducking safely(?) back to her place to await...

...Scabbed jumps up as the snow orb hits him, smiles at Cloud, living in the Norwegian mountains he's used to snowballs. Slowly and a bit nervous he closes the altar mumbling something in Norwegian, then sends his warmest thanks to Tula and Dallyon for helping him finding the path witch he has been searching for a long time . Also thanking the Lord and Lady for all his new friends at pagan path before he returns slowly to the circle and waits...

...Annwyn watches the silliness about her and despite extreme attachment to being serious, she finds the corner of her mouth rise... it twitches and she reaches with her hand to contain it... it rises in rebellion... just a bit... it is a smile... really it is... or hmmmm... mischief brewing... eeeegadddss! Having met her weekly quota for mischief, Annwyn shakes her head and returns to more sombre thoughts.

Within the feasting and merriment of the holidays one dances the memory of summer, and one is surrounded with others like the bounty of summer gathered in a basket - or wishes to be so - and still, Annwyn contends that winter is a "solitary pursuit". Need of others binds one to the tribe in these cold days when the Earth retires, but the thoughts and the desires one seeks are far removed from the light of smiles or the sunlight captured in a ripe peach.

At winter's dawn, and the time that walks just after harvest is complete , the stag snorts and prances and calls us to a place of wilderness within our spirit; and, we will answer or we will duplicate actions that may have served or may have not, but in not recognizing or finding relation with this inner call, we step the round but do not mete the spiral.

Within a single seed Annwyn remembers, the universe is contained... and within a women's womb rests the seeds of so many children unborn; only a few will come to fruit. So within our spirit so much potential lies untapped, and while we may not bring all to light in this winter journey we seek and name the children of our future... a new job, a new abode, peace with one who has come before.

Annwyn steps to the altar and places a single hazelnut, then raises her arms and eyes to the great white orb above her... Dear Mother, that I might recognize my children in the darkness.

She returns to the circle and waits for...

A sense of timeless circles exists here, of primitive beginnings and ancient times gone before. A love unending in this night. The circles of the trees, the circles of our lives, the circles yet to be. Those gathered, join hands under the illumination of the night, moving in a spiral as a chant grows...

"Lady spin your circle bright
Weave a web of silver light
Earth and Air and Fire and Water
Shining within… "

...Nymue' approaches the alter once more. On the hill top she see the Stag, the same stag that had appeared by the fireside before. He now stands silently watching, knowing. Standing at the alter with hands stretched above her head Nymue' looks skyward, the snow stopped and the wind stilled. The clouds that had been swirling like the poignant surface of a cauldron parted. The illuminated surface of the Mother in all her fullness shows through. Nym' can feel the cone created here this night, and sense its power being drawn through her fingertips, down into her core of being.

" We thank the God and Goddess for their attendance, as we gathered here in our love for them. We offer thanks to all spirits for watching over and guarding this circle. Love is thy law, and Love is thy bond."

After a moment she kneels placing palms to the ground ,the outside world slowly regaining its dominance, as the power created here tonight is returned to the earth. The circle is no more.

" By the earth that is her body
And by the air that is her breath
And by the fire of her bright spirit,
And by the living waters of her womb,
This temple is now cleared,
The circle is open, but never shall be broken.
So Mote It Be"

As the others mixed and made there way into the welcoming warmth of the cabin, Nym' moved to the edge of the lake. The night air seems to have been warmed by the trust, hopes and dreams of those gathered. Was the night really warmer or was it just the fires of passion that warmed her heart? Nymue' stood on the shore gazing across the lake. The brilliance of the moon danced across the frozen surface in a stream. It brought to her mind a common phrase; " As different as night and day", BUT were they? The moonlight played across the lakes surface just as the morning sun had. Different?? Perhaps not! Maybe just a looking glass image of each other, the same yet distinct.