Cros Bhríde

Cros Bhríde from Paula Geraghty on Vimeo.

In an old schoolhouse in north Donegal people gather to grant St Brigid permission to cross the threshold. She carries an armful of freshly cut rushes with a white cloth tied around them. They are laid on a long set of tables, and slowly men, women and children go up gather some rushes up to make the traditional St Brigid's crosses. There are a number of cross styles.

This all takes place on the eve of Lá Fhéile Bríde or St Brigid's Day, which falls on February 1st each year.

This was originally a pagan custom, which was Christianised. Imbolc was it's old pagan name and marked the the beginning of Spring.

This is a localised tradition. Here, in the old schoolhouse, all ages of the community gather to chat, make crosses, passing on skills and a culture that has deep roots. Children run around, dipping their hands in the tin of chocolates, allowed to stay up late. A huge pot of spuds is boiled, mashed with an old wooden potato ponder with scallions and salt added, maybe a drop of milk and when it's served on the plate a well is made for the great dollop of butter. Yum, yum.

Go raibh míle maith agaibh Mandy agus Donnelly, agus gach duine eile a raibh ann. Bhí an oíche an galánta ar fad.

Running time 15 minutes.

My Imbolc Observance

Yesterday was spent at Cheaha State Park with the family. Later on that evening, I decided to make some barley bread both for offering and for breakfast on Sunday. It failed horribly, lol. I’m not sure what I did wrong but it came out like a brick, so I wrapped it up to crumble up later and give it to the birds. By the time I was finished with that and did the dishes to be sure the kitchen was clean to receive Bríd, it was really late so I decided to call it a night and get up early Sunday and begin working on another offering.

Before bed, I “lit” the electric candle I have for her, repeating A Brighid, scars os mo chionn / Do bhrat fionn dom anacal* as I lay down to sleep.

I awoke up around 7:30am this morning and did the routine cleaning my face and etcetera. I was up before the rest of the family, so I started the coffee pot and began gathering the ingredients for the tea cake. I made two, one for everyone to eat that morning and one mainly to give an offering from, and whatever was left for the extended family coming over after church.

Once they were off to church, I lit the oil burner and said Ultan’s Hymn to Brigit** [in English since I‘m not sure on Old Irish pronunciation]. I then went outside to gather from fresh juniper and performed the An Liuthail rite. Afterward, I warmed some milk and mixed in some honey, allowing the honey to melt. Once done, I came to the altar in my bedroom and poured it into the offering bowl, saying: Bríd breo bithbbhuan***. I walked outside and found some dandelions in bloom, so I picked those for Her and placed them on the altar as well.

Nothing fancy but very meaningful to me, at least.


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* O Brighid, spread over my head / Your bright mantle to guard me

** Brigit be bithmaith [Brigit everfine lady,]
breo orda oiblech, [golden sparkling flame]
don-fe do'n bithlaith [may she lead us to eternal day,]
in grian tind taidleach [the fiery radiant sun!]

*** Glory everlasting to Brigit the fiery!