The Cailleach
the hag of winter, shaper of hills
earthThe Cailleach strides the land dropping stones from her apron to raise the mountains, ruling the long dark half of the year; to dream of her is to make peace with the cold season of a life, and to trust that the frost, too, is doing necessary work.
Fragments
She is older than the sea, and she measures her years by the ancient trees she has outlived, one after another, standing over each as it falls.
Each spring she drinks from a hidden well and turns young again, but through the winter she rides the storms, hammering the ground to iron with her staff.
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