By the old ways we are knee deep in winter now, the velvet darkness closing in. The bare bones beginning to show. The Cailleach has been storming through the valleys and thundering on the hills. That old goddess of winter we have been taught to fear, or at best tolerate until spring makes her more palatable to us in another, softer guise. More comfortable, more sociable.
But I love her, she sends me to my desk. By candlelight and starlight and she keeps the daylight just low enough to keep me dreaming even at noon. And so, the words come.
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