Winter has come to the Isles, the Cailleach crosses the vast terrain with her staff in hand, each strike of it on the soil sending icy cold blasts in all directions. This place, in the dells and the hills, amidst the crags and the wild places of rock and bone... this, is where she dwells. She has the grumpy visage of someone whose bones ache, but there’s still a twinkle in her eye. She’ll dance a jig if she feels the need or sweep your feet out from under you with her staff if you make her cross... or simply because she feels the urge. She’s not a fan of fools, be they young or old but she is not without compassion, and will reward those that touch her heart. Age is her mantle, but she has another aspect, one of youth and beauty. When you look at her from out the corner of your eye, and should you catch her unawares you can sometimes see her other guise, that of Bride, or Bridget. It’s there, the softness, the gentler form. In both roles though she can be the tender nurturer that brings things to fruitfulness or dispatches them with a swiftness also born of love. This phenomena, the dual aspect, is reflected in many cultures and myths. In essence it represents balance, the natural order between chaos and it’s counterpart.
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