The Candles of Imbolc    

 Imbolc (pronounced Im-MOLG), which takes place from sunset on February 1
to sunset on February 2, is one of the four fire festivals in the Wheel of
the Year. Although snow blankets the earth in the Northern hemisphere and
the days seem long and dark, underneath Nature is stirring, waking to the
coming of spring. In earth-based religions, people celebrate this festival
by giving each other seeds and lighting candles to symbolize the light of
the lengthening days.  The Candles of Imbolc by Diana Read 

  

 Christmas was over. 

 Oh, yes, Christmas was definitely over in Chicago, and along with it many
of the things that made the season so special: the desire to share with
others less fortunate, the warmth of such benedictions as "Merry
Christmas!" and "God bless you" falling as softly as snowflakes, not only
on one's immediate circle of family and friends, but on humankind in
general; and most of all, perhaps, the need to pause for reflection in a
year that seemed to race by like a herd of caribou before a hunter,
leaving everyone breathless by the time of the winter solstice. 

 On a Thursday afternoon toward the end of January, RCMP Constable Benton
Fraser became painfully conscious that the spirit of the Christmas season
had vanished when Detective Ray Vecchio hung up the telephone on his desk,
leaned back in his chair, and said, "Trouble in your neighborhood again,
Fraser. This is getting serious." 

 "What's the problem this time, Ray? Neighborhood gangs again?" 

 "No." Ray looked troubled. "It's more vandalism at the halfway house
site. Last week someone stole some of the construction materials that were
left there. Then someone painted graffiti on the walls in the middle of
the night. This call I just got was from the City Social Welfare
Agency--it seems that someone fired bullets into the front porch this
afternoon, in a drive-by." 

 "Ray! Was anyone hurt?" After more than two years, Fraser still had not
come to terms with the casual, mindless violence of the city. Not for the
first time, he thought with longing of what he had left behind: the clean,
empty vastness of snowfields, the innocence of frontier life in the Yukon
and the Territories, where the occasional bout of drunkenness or petty
theft was the worst thing that ever happened. 

 "No, thank God. The halfway house is empty, because the City is
remodeling it for the inhabitants to move in at the end of the month. I
guess we'd better go have a look." 

 Both men rose, reaching for coats; Fraser put on his Stetson and looked
around for Dief. "Come on, Dief. It's time to work off that last chocolate
doughnut that Elaine gave you when she thought I wasn't looking." 

 At the halfway house, a worried-looking city official, a well-dressed
woman with gray hair, greeted Fraser and Ray. "I'm Dorinda Little. Nice to
meet you, Detective Vecchio," she said, extending her hand. "And you,
Constable Fraser. Let me show you around the place." 

 "Any idea who might be behind these attacks?" Ray asked as they followed
her through the rooms on the ground floor. 

 "I can't say for sure," Ms. Little said, throwing them a glance over her
shoulder. "The people in the neighborhood are very much against the idea
of Esperanza House. As you may know, it's intended to provide an assisted
living facility for AIDS patients. They're all people in whom the disease
is active, but they're all under treatment and ambulatory. They need a
place where they can manage mostly by themselves, with just a little help
with the basic chores of life." 

 "Why aren't they with their families?" Fraser asked. 

 Ms. Little looked grave. "They're either alone in the world or their
families have shunned them, Constable. I hate to say it, but there are
still people who regard AIDS patients with fear and loathing. I'm afraid
something of the same sentiment is present in the neighborhood." 

 "Yeah, well, we'll make some inquiries," Ray said. "We'll get to the
bottom of it." 

 "Detective, is it possible to have the police watch the place? We're very
nearly ready for our first tenants, as you can see. They're supposed to
move in next weekend." 

 "I'm sorry, Ms. Little. We already have patrols in place, but the
precinct doesn't have the personnel to keep a 24-hour guard on Esperanza
House." Ray's tone was gentle, but firm. 

 As they left the house, Ms. Little turned back to lock the front door.
Fraser, preparing to descend the steps of the porch in front of the house,
stopped as he noticed the pickets marching up and down the sidewalk. He
recognized some of the faces among them: no one who lived in his building,
but still--there was Mr. Sperry, the man who ran the newspaper stand
across the street; and Mrs. Chartak, the owner of the all-night grocery on
the corner; and Mr. Willert and Mr. Lopez, the two men who operated the
filling station at the other end. The signs were ugly: "Gays, gays, go
away," "AIDS--just because you got it, don't bring it here," and "You
brought this on yourselves, you perverts." 

 "Oh, dear." Fraser sighed. 

 "Yeah. They look like they mean business," Ray muttered. 

 "You see what we have to contend with." Ms. Little's voice spoke behind
them. 

 "Is the City planning to take any action on it?" Ray asked, turning to
her. 

 Ms. Little shrugged. "We're having a community meeting tomorrow night in
the elementary school cafeteria. A lot of people from our agency will be
on hand to explain why we decided to locate Esperanza House here. We're
trying to get people to come, but I don't know..." 

 "Do you have flyers, ma'am?" 

 "Yes, we do. Would you like to take some of them around?" Ms. Little
peered at Fraser with a hopeful look. 

 "Certainly, Ms. Little. We'd be glad to." 

 Ray gave Fraser a look. "You'd be glad to, Fraser. I have to get back to
the station and file a report." 

 "Fine." Fraser accepted a stack of flyers that Ms. Little fished from the
depths of her capacious bag, and walked off with Diefenbaker in one
direction, while Ray and the social worker went in the other, toward their
respective cars. 

 * * * * * * * * * * * 

 The next night, a Friday, dozens of people crowded into the elementary
school cafeteria. Fraser had never seen so many of his neighbors gathered
in one place before, not even when they'd picketed City Hall to save their
apartments after being threatened with eviction. As people arranged
themselves in folding chairs at one end of the room, or leaned against the
wall, he counted them: a full hundred. The City officials, a
harried-looking lot, spoke one at a time from a temporary podium in front
of the room. 

 Fraser and Ray, sitting off to one side of the City officials, could see
the community members clearly. "Benny, they look hostile," Ray said in a
low voice. 

 Fraser sat up straight as usual, scanning the crowd. "They may change
their minds by the time the evening's over, Ray." 

 "Yeah? Well, I wouldn't bet on it." 

 Ms. Little's speech was drawing to a close. "And now I would like to
invite participation from you, the citizens of this neighborhood. Does
anyone have a question?" 

 Several hands shot up. Ms. Little looked around and said, "All right,
I'll start at this end of the room. Your name, sir?" 

 "Ibrahim Mustafi." Mr. Mustafi rose and looked accusingly at Ms. Little.
"These people moving in are bad people. God has punished them with the
AIDS virus because of their bad life. We don't want people like that here,
around our kids." 

 Fraser heard Ray snort, then try to change it into a cough. "Benny," he
whispered from behind his hand, "who does Mustafi think he's kidding? This
neighborhood is full of every kind of low life--crack dealers, pimps, you
name it." 

 "Please, Mr. Mustafi." Ms. Little's voice was calm, her expression
neutral. "These people are unfortunate. Illness is illness, not a
punishment. For your information, one of the future inhabitants of
Esperanza House is a nurse who accidentally pricked herself with a needle.
She contracted AIDS, and has nowhere else to go. Another of our future
residents is a young married woman. Her husband contracted AIDS on a
business trip, came home, and gave it to her. Another of our residents is
an 18-year-old boy, a hemophiliac, who received a tainted blood
transfusion three years ago, in another country. This disease can happen
to anyone. Any other questions?" 

 More hands shot up, and Ms. Little nodded at a young woman in the front
row, who clutched a squirming toddler in her arms. "We don't want people
with a fatal disease in our neighborhood," the young woman said. "What if
our children got it? What if we got it? We don't want to take a chance." 

 "I understand your concern," Ms. Little said, "but AIDS is not
transmitted through casual contact. It can only be transmitted through an
exchange of bodily fluids. The AIDS virus lives only half an hour outside
the human body. There is no reason for you to have anything except the
most casual contact with the residents of Esperanza House, such as saying
good morning, or something like that." 

 "I don't believe you," the young woman said. "People are always saying
this or that won't hurt you and then years later, it turns out it will
hurt you. Look at DDT! Look at cigarettes!" 

 "She's got a point there," Ray muttered in Ben's ear. 

 "Well, I'm sorry if you don't believe the evidence," Ms. Little said.
"It's a well-documented fact that AIDS is not spread through casual
contact. If it were, we'd all be down with it, just as we all come down
with the 'flu every winter." 

 The question-and-answer period continued for another twenty minutes. At
the end, Ms. Little, looking exhausted, asked, "Would anyone like to step
forward and say a word?" 

 "I would." Fraser rose to his feet. "May I?" 

 "Of course." Ms. Little handed him the microphone with an air of relief. 

 "Thank you kindly, Ms. Little. Good evening, ladies and gentlemen." As
Fraser stepped forward to the podium, he faced his neighbors and smiled at
them all. One or two smiled back. "Thank you for coming to this meeting
tonight and demonstrating your interest in our community. If you'll permit
me, I'd like to say a few words about Esperanza House." 

 He paused for a few seconds, looking around the room. "We've heard a lot
of things here tonight about the future residents of Esperanza House,
about our feelings toward them, and why some of us wish that Esperanza
House weren't to be located in this street. But we haven't said anything
at all about how the future residents feel. Have we thought about that?
Have we thought about how they'll feel when they come to live here and
find they're not welcome? You may know about the acts that have been
committed at the housing site: there have been shots fired, graffiti
painted on the walls, objects stolen. That's not very welcoming. These
people need our compassion and understanding. Aren't we big enough to give
them that?" 

 Fraser leaned forward. There was a murmur along the back row, but the
front rows appeared to be listening. "Candlemas is almost upon us. Some of
you may not know about this festival, so I'll explain. In the Old
Religion, on Candlemas Eve people used to put a lighted candle in front of
every window in their houses. The candles were white, to symbolize the
first flowers of the approaching spring. All those lights in the dark
winter night meant one thing--that the sun was coming back, that the long,
light days of spring were coming closer and closer. In the old days, you
see, they didn't know for certain that spring would come: they just hoped
it would. 

 "Well, Candlemas Eve falls on February first this year. That's a week
from tomorrow, when the first residents of Esperanza House will be moving
in. Many of you already know that "esperanza" means "hope." Esperanza
House is going to give these people hope for a better life: can't we
demonstrate the spirit of the season, and show them that we welcome them?
Please, when you leave here tonight, think about that. Thank you kindly
for your attention, ladies and gentlemen. Have a good evening." 

 Fraser bowed and left the podium to rejoin Ray at the side of the room. 

 "Nice speech, Benny," Ray whispered. "Ten gets you twenty it went right
in one ear and out the other with these guys." 

 * * * * * * * * * * * 

 The next day dawned cold but clear. Fraser, out for an early morning jog
with Dief, went slightly out of his way to pass Esperanza House, hoping he
wouldn't see fresh evidence of the neighbors' animosity toward the
incoming tenants. 

 His hopes were dashed when he saw the sign tacked up on the railing
outside the house. "Perverts Stay Out" was lettered crudely in black on a
white background. He tested the edge of the wooden board by pulling at it
gently: it gave. Encouraged, he pulled harder and the sign came away with
a loud crack. Fraser took it under his arm, intending to drop it into the
nearest trash bin. Dief looked up at him inquiringly. 

 "Dief, we have to do something. I know you think it's a free country and
every pack has a right to its own opinion, but this is interfering with
the rights of another pack." 

 Dief wagged his tail; then, evidently bored, ran ahead to sniff an
interesting trail left by another member of species canus. 

 An hour later, after breakfast and some deep thought, Fraser picked up
his Stetson and called to Dief. "Come on, Diefenbaker. We're going to the
woods for inspiration." 

 Dief bounded out of the apartment, down the steps, out through the front
door. As Fraser came out of the building, Ray was just emerging from the
Riv parked at the curb. 

 "Hey, Fraser, where ya goin'? I came by to check out the house, but it
looks pretty quiet at the moment. Have you seen or heard anything?" 

 Fraser told him what he'd found earlier. "I'm taking Dief to the woods
for a couple of hours, Ray. There's something we need to do there. You're
welcome to come along, if you like." 

 "Okay. As long as it's just for a couple of hours. And besides, how would
you get there without me?" 

 Fraser smiled. Ray was so American. "We would have walked, Ray." 

 Ray snorted, and got back into the driver's seat. "Come on, guys, let's
get moving." 

 In the woods, the three of them walked further and further into the
thicket of bare-limbed trees, across a carpet of fallen leaves that
crackled under their thick-soled shoes. 

 "Fraser, could I just ask what you're looking for?" Ray's tone was
over-polite, as if he were congratulating himself on his restraint. Ben,
glancing at him, deduced that what Ray really wanted to say was, "Fraser,
what in hell are we doing out here and how long do we have to stay? It's
cold!" 

 "Certainly, Ray. I'm looking for some water, preferably running water.
And then I'll be looking for a nice flat place to start a fire. And then
I'll want small twigs and branches, and maybe a couple of small tree
limbs, and..." 

 "All right, I getcha. We're going camping?" 

 "No, Ray. I'll explain later. Ah!" 

 Through the trees to the right, Fraser spied the glint of ice. Closer
inspection revealed a partly frozen stream near a small clearing. "This
will do fine. Now for the fire materials." 

 Half an hour later, as flames leaped from the pile of wood they'd
gathered, Fraser snapped the blade out of his Swiss Army knife. In the
absence of an athame, the knife would serve to cast the circle. "Good! We
have all four elements present--earth, water, fire, and air. Now I'm going
to cast a small circle and invoke the Goddess Brigit." 

 "Briggit?" Ray repeated. "Who's she?" 

 "She's the Celtic Goddess of healing, poetry, and metalcraft. She has
other attributes, too, but we're not concerned with those at the moment.
The point is, next weekend is Imbolc, which is Her festival, and I want to
invoke Her protection for Esperanza House." 

 Ray rolled his eyes skyward. "Why me? Okay, okay. If I can go through a
spiral dance at Samhain, I can do this. Hey, I just thought of something.
Can we do this without Dragon Lady? Didn't you tell me she was the High
Priestess?" 

 "She is," Fraser said. "But she presides over groups. In the Old
Religion, everyone is trained to do rituals, not just the priestess. For
centuries, a lot of people had to conduct their rituals in solitude and
silence, because of the feeling against those who practiced the Craft of
the Wise." 

 "All right, Fraser. Whatever you say. What do I have to do?" 

 "After I cast the circle, don't step outside it. We'll be in sacred space
until I close the circle again. And once we feel the spirit of Brigit, we
need to concentrate very hard to find out what She wants us to do." 

 "Well, now how am I going to find that out, Benny? Does Brigit have a
toll-free number to whatever place she's in now?" 

 Fraser smiled. "Don't be silly, Ray. The message could come in a number
of ways. You might get a mental picture, or you might get a feeling, or
words might come into your mind. Or it could come through your sense of
smell. " 

 "Anything but that! Okay, but...I don't know, Benny. I'm not used to this
stuff." 

 "Ray...if this seems silly or fantastic to you, just try to imagine that
you can get a mental image, or a message in words. Just relax and accept
whatever comes." 

 Holding his knife, blade pointing toward the sky, before him, Fraser
walked around the fire in a nine-foot-wide circle until he came back to
the starting point. Then, pointing the knife at each element as he spoke,
he intoned: 

 "By the Earth that is Her body
 By the Air that is Her breath
 By the Fire of Her bright spirit
 By the Waters of Her living womb;
 By all that is above
 And all that is below
 The circle is cast:
 We are Between the Worlds.
 Blessed be."
 

 "Blessed be," Ray echoed. 

 In a short invocation, Fraser asked the Goddess to enter the circle, and
then fell silent. He sat down on the ground, signaling to Ray to do the
same. Dief sat outside the circle, looking around. 

 Breathing deeply of the cold air, spreading his fingers against the cold
earth, hearing the tentative trickle of the half-frozen stream as it began
to melt under morning sunlight, Fraser felt the peace of the Goddess enter
his heart. He closed his eyes, breathing more and more deeply, until he
entered into a light trance. Then two words came into his mind, as if a
voice had spoken. The voice said: "Plant flowers." 

 "Fraser." It was a whisper from Ray. "Is it okay if I talk? I mean, do we
have to be quiet like in church?" 

 "No, you can speak normally, Ray. What is it?" 

 "Narcissus," Ray said in a puzzled tone. "I smell narcissus. And--and
carnations. And lilies. Can you smell anything? It's weird. I feel like
I've just walked into a flower shop. Frannie used to work in one, and she
was always bringing home the stock when it got past the pull date." 

 Staring at his friend in delight, Fraser said, "That's it! She has
spoken! She told me to plant flowers." 

 "Plant flowers?" Ray sounded incredulous. "Where?" 

 "At Esperanza House, of course." 

 "You crazy, Fraser? The place is sitting in the middle of an ocean of
concrete! There's no grass anywhere! How're we going to plant flowers in a
place like that?" 

 "There's more than one way to skin a walrus, Ray. I have a plan--" 

 "Of course!" 

 "--and we can do it easily. All we need is permission from the City..." 

 "All right. So tell me." 

 Fraser told him. 

 * * * * * * * * * * * * 

 The following Saturday, February first, found Fraser and Ray at Esperanza
House early. Ray held a list, reading quantities and measurements from it
while Ben checked each stack of wood planks and box of nails. Both wore
jeans and windbreakers against the chill of the morning. 

 "I'm glad we did some of this work during the week, Benny," Ray said,
folding up the receipt from the lumber store and stowing it in his pocket.
"If you hadn't done those measurements and arranged to have this lumber
cut according to the specs, we'd never be able to finish on time today. As
it is, I'm wondering." 

 "Oh, I think we'll be able to, Ray." Ben whistled as he set up the
borrowed sawhorse and arranged the nails and planks on it. "Look, if I
hold the wood in position and you hammer the nails in, that should work." 

 "Okay." 

 For a little while they worked in the comfortable silence of close
friends, a silence broken only by the sound of hammering, while the rising
sun pointed long fingers of golden light at them. Dief wandered around the
porch, sniffing the unfamiliar scents and occasionally coming over to
supervise the activities of the humans. 

 "You know, Benny," Ray said. "I still can't believe I got a message from
Brigit last week when you invoked Her. I mean, I don't even believe in
your religion, and She sent me a message anyway!" 

 "Oh, I'm sure She knows you." Fraser picked up another plank. "Brigit had
a holy well in Ireland, and also a holy flame, tended by priestesses. You
probably know her better as Saint Bridget. To this day, priestesses tend
Her flame at Kildare--only now they're called nuns." 

 "Oh, good! So I'm not going to get into trouble for--" 

 The relief in Ray's face and tone of voice was so great that Fraser
laughed. "Ray, Ray, Ray! We each tread our own path, but all paths lead to
the same place in the end. The important thing is to lead the best life
you can. Dief, can you pass me the hammer, please?" 

 Dief trotted over, carrying the claw hammer in his mouth. 

 At nine-thirty they had their first visitor. Gugulami, from Fraser's
apartment house, marched up the steps of the front porch and handed a
paper sack to each man. "You look so cold, and you're working so hard,"
she said, in her musical African accent. "I brought you each a cup of
coffee and a bagel." 

 "Thank you kindly, Gugulami." Fraser smiled at his neighbor. Gugulami was
a priestess of the Orishas; the energy field emanating from her was so
powerful that he had to step back a pace. He looked inside the sack. "Oh,
you even brought a bagel for Dief! How nice of you. He's such a fortunate
wolf." 

 Gugulami was examining their work with an air of curiosity. "What are you
making?" 

 "Window boxes," Ray said. "In the spring, the people here will put dirt
in them and plant flowers." 

 "It's too early to plant anything now, of course," Fraser added. "But we
thought we'd get some flowers from the florist shop and put them in the
window boxes, just for tonight, as a welcome for the first arrivals." 

 Gugulami nodded. "What time are they coming?" 

 "About seven, so I'm told," Ray said. 

 "It seems strange to start moving in on Saturday evening," Gugulami said.
"It would seem more logical to start in the morning." 

 "Well, they're behind schedule. They were supposed to start moving in
this morning, but with the City having to fill in the bullet holes, and
paint over the graffiti, and so forth..." Fraser left the sentence
unfinished. 

 "Well, it's good what you are doing. I will see you later. Good morning."
Gugulami smiled at each of them and then made her graceful progress down
the path back to the street. 

 By lunchtime a whole crowd had gathered to watch, including Willie, now a
suave 14-year-old who dressed in the latest middle school fashion and
chewed gum constantly. Fraser welcomed him with a smile of relief.
"Willie, could you be very kind and take Dief for a walk? If I make it
worth your while?" 

 "Sure thing, Fraser. And you don't have to pay me. I heard what you guys
are doin' and I think it's cool. Come on, Dief, I'll race you to the
park!" 

 Word had evidently spread through the neighborhood that the two police
officers were spending their Saturday building window boxes to adorn the
outside of Esperanza House. Mrs. Rolnick, an old woman who lived on the
other side of the halfway house, brought over a basket of rolls she'd just
baked. Billie Helen Carter, the woman who ran the hair dressing salon next
to the all-night grocery, arrived with a bucket of fried chicken. John and
Tim, the two homeless men who panhandled at the street corner during the
day, offered to take over the carpentry while Fraser and Ray took a lunch
break. 

 By four o'clock the window boxes were nearly finished: only a little more
work remained. "You know, Ray, that was a good idea of yours, to make the
window boxes out of redwood. If we had to paint all this wood and wait for
it to dry, we wouldn't be able to carry out the rest of our plan." 

 "Benny, if there's some way to avoid work on my day off, believe me, I'll
think of it. Nah, I'm kidding. They look pretty good, don't they? You
think Brigit or Saint Bridget would approve?" 

 Fraser clapped Ray on the shoulder. "I'm sure She would. Come on, let's
start clearing up. We only have a couple of hours before the stores
close." 

 By five o'clock the two men had hammered the last nail, swept up all the
wood chips into a bag, and stacked their tools neatly in a cardboard box.
"Okay," Ray said with satisfaction. He took a sip of the soft drink that
Mr. Mustafi had brought around--somewhat sheepishly--a couple of hours
earlier. ("I am sorry for what I said at the meeting the other night,"
he'd apologized. "I did not understand about Esperanza House." "That's all
right," Fraser assured him. "Thanks for stopping by, Mr. Mustafi.") 

 Fraser looked at his watch. "Ray, we can just make it to the flower shop
to get what we want before six o'clock. Let's go. Dief!" He whistled, and
Dief came trotting round the side of the house. 

 "I wonder..." Ray said, as they reached the street and turned to look
back at their handiwork. "Do you reckon it's safe to go off and leave it
like this? We're still investigating the other incidents, but so far we
haven't come up with any leads. What if something happens while we're
gone? It would break my heart if we came back and found it all in ruins." 

 "Let's hope for the best, Ray. Come, we really should get going." 

 * * * * * * * * * * * * 

 "We ready? Let's go." Ray, shifting the two bundles of flowers in his
arms, leaned backwards against the swinging door of the shop entrance so
that it fell open, and Fraser, his arms equally full, followed him out. 

 "What time is it now, Benny?" 

 "Ten past six. Allowing for a fifteen-minute walk from here to Esperanza
House, we should get there just in time to arrange these in the window
boxes before the first residents arrive." 

 "'Mmmm." Ray bent his head to inhale the scent of the flowers. "These
smell so sweet--just like out in the woods last week when Brigit sent me
that message." 

 Fraser, in turn, sniffed the delicate fragrance of the narcissi. "Well, I
hope our future neighbors will be pleased. I'm glad we were able to get
the white variety." 

 The blue-gray dusk of a clear winter evening was just falling as the two
men turned the corner into West Racine. They had to pass Fraser's
apartment building to reach Esperanza House at the end of the street. As
they began to walk the last block, Fraser looked up to check the position
of the moon and then stopped short, clutching Ray's arm. 

 "Ray, look!" 

 Ray followed the direction of Fraser's stare and gasped. In every window
of every building on each side of the street, a candle flame burned like a
miniature star in the winter dusk. Stunned, they looked at each other and
then back at the scene. "The candles of Imbolc," Fraser said, his voice
almost a whisper. 

 "They remembered," Ray said, his voice full of wonder. "They remembered
that tonight is Candlemas Eve." 

 Walking fast, Dief trotting beside them, they reached the end of the
block, walked up the path to Esperanza House, and turned on the porch
light so they could see to arrange the flowers. The light revealed a large
poster board sign propped against the front door. On it, carefully
lettered, was a message. Fraser read it aloud: 

 "Welcome to West Racine Street, Esperanza House Residents!
 Please let us know if we can be of any help to you. Your new neighbors.
 

 Ibrahim Mustafi
 Gugulami
 Pilar Gomez
 Irene Chartak
 Tom Willert
 Billie Helen Carter
 Bert Sperry
 John Spears
 Tim O'Shaughnessy
 Manny Lopez... I don't recognize any of the other names, Ray."
 

 Perhaps the season of compassion, of generosity, of hope for the return
of the warm, life-giving spring, wasn't over after all. He looked at Ray,
whose smile lit up his face, and knew that his friend, like himself, was
too overcome with emotion to speak. 

 With a silent prayer of gratitude to Brigit, Fraser looked down the
street once more, at the windows where the candles of Imbolc twinkled like
stars in the winter night. 

  The End 

  Glossary 

 Athame--a dull-bladed knife with a black handle, used in ritual to cast
the circle. 

 Brigit--Celtic Triple Goddess of healing, poetry, and smithcraft. Known
in Scotland as Bride and in Brittany as Brigandu. 

 Circle--sacred space used for ritual, created by invoking the four
elements and the Goddess. 

 Fire festivals--Imbolc (February 1-2), Beltane (April 30-May 1), Lammas
(July 31-August 1), and Samhain (October 31-November 1.) These are the
cross-quarter days. The other four sabbats are Yule (December 21), Ostara
(March 21), Midsummer (June 21) and Mabon (September 21). 

 Imbolc--Celtic word meaning "in the belly." Also called Oimelc ("ewe's
milk") because February was the lambing season in old Ireland. The Church
incorporated this holiday in the Christian year as Candlemas. 

 Old Religion--the religion of the Goddess, also known as Wicca, or the
Craft of the Wise. 

 Orishas--Afrocuban deities in the Santeria religion, which originated
with the Yoruba people of Nigeria. The religion traveled with them to the
Caribbean when the Yoruba were brought to the New World as slaves. 

 Wheel of the Year--the changing seasons in which Nature expresses the
cycle of birth, death, and rebirth, beginning with Samhain and ending with
Mabon. 

  

 *Copyright January 1997 by Diana Read on all original story content. Not
meant to infringe on copyrights held by Alliance Communications, or any
other copyright holders for DUE SOUTH. Please do not reproduce for
anything other than personal reading use without written consent of the
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