Dear Drummers, ( My apologies in advance for the length of this post. The word "bloviator" floats around me constantly, to my utter dismay. However, I do provide you with a warning of when the great wind begins to blow harshly below...) And now the post: It’s said that the Celts divided the year into two halves, summer and winter or light and dark halves. I like to think of it as the earth singing a yearly melody, with very early spring (Imbolc/Brigit’s day/February) as the inhale and late autumn as the exhale, winter solstice as the end of the silence between breaths, and the time we are in now – spring into summer as the sung melody. There is a Gaelic phrase: Oran Mor: the Great Song sung by the created universe. And Oran Croi: the small song sung by each creature, each creature with its own part of the great melody. The swelling of the buds, the emergence of the scarlet tulips and cerulean Siberian Squill, the ecstatic, sunburst of Forsythia , the flutter of small wings in