Known in Ireland as Nollaig na bBan, today marks the official end of Christmas. We are ahead of ourselves here. All decorations, except for a forgotten furry snowman, have been removed, repackaged and returned to the third-floor attic.
In a surprise move, I’ve offered to cook dinner this evening. It’s a tradition that women do not cook on January 6th. To my surprise, Marion mentioned that it wouldn’t really be necessary this year, because I’m the chef most days! I feel blessed.
It’s time to move outdoors. The garden is calling.
From Mindfulness Ireland… “In Ireland, women have been gathering together on 6th January ‘Nollaig na mBan’, Gaelic for ‘Women’s Christmas’ for so long no one is sure when this heart-warming tradition began.On this night, the menfolk prepared the meal and did the housework so that the women could relax and have fun after all their busyness of the festive season. These celebrations usually took place in one of the women’s homes or in local pubs. This often was the only time in the year that women could drink and revel to their heart’s content free from housework and childcare. Initially, they shared worries and challenges but soon came the great laughing chats and ‘sing-songs’ until the wee hours of the morning. Nollaig na mBan nearly died out in the 1950s but remained very much alive in pockets of Cork and the South West of Ireland, when women have dinner or party together to celebrate their own ‘Little Christmas.’ These days the domestic duties may be shared but this all-female gathering is still treasured as friends and family catch up for a last ‘hurrah’ after the holiday season. More and more women are attending or organizing Nollaig na mBan events, bringing optimism and hope for the year ahead.”
Biking: Very blustery wind. Headwind going up Strikes except for the middle section. Seriously windy after the wooded section coming down Ballingown. Blown home from Kilmolash. Very enjoyable 52km. Scattered clouds, 9°C, Feels like 6°C, Humidity 89%, Wind 7m/s from WSW.
The circles of women around us weave invisible nets of love that carry us when we’re weak, and sing with us when we are strong.
Succulent Wild Woman by SARK, (a.k.a. Susan Ariel Rainbow Kennedy)