Brigid was here

Brigid was here.  There are many ways I can tell.

I can tell because the days are so much longer, so quickly. 

I can tell because the sun comes up earlier.  

I can tell because I hear different birdsongs now. 

I can tell because the sun is in different places throughout the day now than it was at Winter Solstice.  When the cats lounge in the sun in our south-facing main room, they sometimes sit on the floor now, instead of always on the table.  When I'm working at my computer, the sun hits different places in my office than it did six weeks ago.  At Meeting for Worship, the places where one should sit if one does or does not want sun in one's eyes, or on the back of one's head, has shifted. 

The sun is higher in the sky, and that seems to be changing every day. This is dramatically noticeable. 

I can tell because when I'm working at my computer and I need to turn on the office lights, it's later in the day. 

I can tell from the different things that happened at our Brigid-inspired potluck dinner party a few weeks ago: creativity, community, fun, fast friendship between a child who expected to be bored and a normally-aloof cat, lots of laughter, some silliness, learning to make Brigid's crosses (there was some swearing, a true feeling of accomplishment, and some just plain fun involved), delightful food (a beetroot and sheeps'-milk feta torte, sheeps'-milk being traditional for Imbolc/Brigid; chili with Boston brown bread (aka cornbread with corn and rye flours); salad; apple pie and apple crumble and stewed apples; lots of chocolate...).

Brigid was here.