It is winter. While the first stirrings of spring have been seen, the cold and quiet has not completely run their course. The world is white, covered in glistening snow. The wind is blowing against the windows, a chill working its way across my skin. Icicles hang from the gutters where winter’s glory tried to melt in a brief warming spell. I sit in my chair snuggled deep in my grandmother’s quilt, lovingly brushing my hand over each square, and I think on the memories and traditions that she shared at her kitchen table so many years ago. I look upon one square, a large wolf’s head on a field of rich, navy blue with a snowflake embroidered on its hide. I then begin to think back to another winter long ago to the days of my younger self. A time where I took for granted the world around me, as young people do, and was always in a hurry.
I was much younger, much rasher. It was yet another winter day where I was walking on a snowy, windy morning trying to reach the bus stop in order to get to my classes. College was not as forgiving for weather as elementary or secondary schools. They prepared you for the real world where snow days for adults are just not a thing. I only lived a few blocks from the stop but with the rapidly accumulating mix I struggled for each step. As I trudged through the now nearly knee-deep snow, I suddenly lost my footing and slid, dropping my book bag, loosing papers, and getting my jeans, coat and gloves terribly wet. I stood up feeling the cold seep into my bones while I tried to wipe off the snow and slush. I was disheartened and trying to find the inner steam to keep going. At that moment a car drove by throwing icy sludge high in the air hitting down my entire left side. I was shocked and soaked by the cold. In frustration I yelled out:
‘WHY do we need all this? We slip and slide. We break our legs. And for what?! To freeze our asses off! I HATE winter!’
Be very careful what words you fling out to the Cosmos. You never know when an answer will come back. For as quickly as the words came out of my mouth, the wind picked up. The snow that had been a steady, but light, fall became an impenetrable curtain. The world turned upside down in a matter of seconds, and I quickly felt about for my bearings. I could see nothing. Words failed to leave my throat as I tried in vain to call for help. In the heart of the wind I could hear the howling of wolves. Wolves? There were no wolves in the city. Thinking I was imagining things I tried to move forward but nothing happened. The snow came down so thick and the wind blew so hard I could not take even a single step forward. Trapped, I began to panic. Desperately I wondered if I could make it the last few steps to find the bus shelter I knew had to be nearby. I tried again to look about me. As I peered into the swirl of snow plummeting faster than a tornado I began to see a figure take shape. Relieved that I could see another human soul, I cried out:
‘Help! Can you hear me? Can you see me? I can’t tell where to go. I’m so cold and the wind is blowing so hard I can’t move. I’m lost!’
The shape became a woman. Walking steadily in my direction she seemed to have no issue walking in the blizzard circling around me. Long, dark hair swirling in the wind she came closer. Soon I was able to see ice blue eyes in the loveliest face I had ever beheld. Dressed only in what appeared to be animal hide, she had a bow slung across her back. Two wolves flanked her steps as she made her way towards me. She didn’t struggle as I did. She didn’t fight the wind that nearly sent me to my knees. In fact it quickly appeared as if the very wind and snow came from the cloak that billowed around her. Her strides were long and sure. Not once did she look down to see where her feet meet the ground. She knew where her steps landed and carried herself with a confidence borne of a certainty within herself and her environment. As she reached me, her husky voice answered calmly:
“Of course I can hear you, little one. You are yelling loud enough. You need not fear. I can both see you and show you the way. Take my hand. The wind will not touch you and the snow will feel as soft of wool against your skin.”
In disbelief I slowly reached out to this beautiful vision. I asked, “Who are you?”
“You know me well, child, if you but think. My name is Skaði. Daughter of Thiassi. Mistress of Thrymheim. I am the wolf woman. I am the winter maid. I am the huntress. I am the defender. I am the avenger.”
“Alright”, I said, “what does that mean?”
She laughed softly and gave me this answer,
“It means, Daughter, that I have the answers you so loudly sought. It means that it is I who rules this season of Midgarð now. For this is MY snow, MY winter, and all of this has a purpose.”
Thinking back to my outburst as I had fallen, I began to feel concerned I had offended such a beautiful being. A little frightened, my hand began to tremble. It wasn’t every day that one met a goddess, for only a goddess could have such power. How often does a deity of any kind deign to answer a mere mortal just because they asked a question unless they are miffed at our audacity? Skaði tightened her hold on my hand and pulled me close within her cloak. As soon as I stepped within the warmth provided to me, the snow and wind no longer bit. She gently wiped my face clear of the sludge I had been sprayed with, tsking as she did so. My skin instantly warmed as I relaxed within her embrace. Surprised and a little awed I looked up into those clear eyes and waited. Waited for what words she would give me.
“You asked why we need all this. You declared, quite loudly, how you hate winter. You bemoaned what injuries may have been suffered. Now, I will give you the answers that you asked for. Let us see if you feel the same afterwards.”
I was embarrassed that she had heard me. I now believed that I had truly given a great offense in my thoughtless outburst and was afraid to reply. So I waited, yearningly for her to speak once more. Before me opened a small clearing with a roaring fire, large stump benches sat as if waiting for someone to come and warm themselves. Guiding me over, we sat close together. Warm waves of heat flowed over me and I sighed contentedly. She smiled softly and hugged me tight as she began her story.
Skaði speaks…
“Long ago, in the halls of Asgarð, in a time before the seasons changed; Nerþus, she who brings fruition to the land, sat at the feast table of Ægir. Her head drooped, her body bent forward, she barely drank or ate of the feast in front of her. Her hands dragged slowly to any task that needed her attention. Oðin, Lord of the Æsir, in worried tones sent his wife, Frigg, to discover what ailed her. As Frigg sat beside Nerþus, she placed her sweet-scented arms about her friend and sister and asked her what made her so weary.
Nerþus turned her dark eyes towards the Queen of the heavens and said, “I have had no rest since the war. Always must the Earth bear fruit to feed the children. My bones, my soul, my womb ache in exhaustion. There is no rest for me. The people will starve, they will die without the harvest if I cease this wearisome work, even for a moment. Before the exchange all shared in the duties of fertility and harvest for all the lands. But no more. The sacred connection has been damaged by the absence of my children and I have tried to bear the entirety of it on my own. I have come to see my family within your halls to ease my tiredness. Our peoples treaty demands they remain here, but I do not know how much longer I can continue in this work without their aid.”
Concerned, Frigg took the matter to the other residents of Asgarð. Both sides knew that to maintain peace the treaty could not be broken. Sacred Oaths had been made upon Yggdrasil itself and to break those bonds would be catastrophic. All manner of ideas were considered from allowing someone else to shoulder the burden to using magic to feed the realms. None were of any long-term feasible use. It was then that Eostre stood up, youthful radiance shining about her. She had joined the ranks of the Æsir only recently which led to a shy sweetness all had come to appreciate and love. The hall had fallen silent for she was one of few words and usually so very timid. She walked to the center of the hall with all eyes focused upon her and began to speak:
“When Sunna brought me to this land, I did not know my purpose. Newly born I have waited until it would become clear to me why I exist. I have always loved the newness of fresh blossoms and sweet baby animals. There is an untouched kindness and innocence that draws me in. Listening to all of these ideas from those of you much more experienced, I have hesitated to speak. However, perhaps if we adjust the ideas rather than throw them out completely a compromise can be made. We cannot allow Nerþus to continue in such a manner as this. Soon, she will be so weary that all the realms will begin to wilt and die–even Iðunn’s golden apples will be powerless. None of us as individuals have the skill and strength to do all that Nerþus does alone. It is a great testament to her courage, strength, and devotion for all creatures that she has lasted this long. But now she needs our help.
I have a possible solution. If we divide up the duties then it should help to make the whole much more manageable. Let us plant the first harvest in the early part of a year asking Freyja and Freyr to lend their magics of fertility to the endeavors. Jorð will encourage the newly awakened seeds in the earth to bring them high into the light, leafing and setting down strong roots. Iðunn and I will inspire the flowers that will give us beauty and future fruits promising a renewal of life for the future. Jorð and Síf will carry them to the harvest where Iðunn and Freyr will ensure that the abundance is brought in. Nerþus will focus on keeping the earth pliant and receptive to this growing season. Once the last crops are in, Nerþus should be allowed to sleep and rest as she will.
While she sleeps, each of the realms should also rest. I have watched the peoples and seen how they press on. They never stop. They never see what is around them. So busy, always so very busy. They work themselves to their deaths never having enjoyed the bubbling of a brook or the feel of a flower upon their cheek. It has saddened me that with every generation it becomes worse. Thus, as Nerþus rests, so should all peoples within the realms she touches.”
Oðin, seeing wisdom in these words, then asked: “But how do you propose to make all the realms rest? How do you presume to make the people stop? They will only continue to plow the lands and force their seeds into the ground.”
Eostre took another breath and looked at me. She calmly beckoned me to step forward. Curious as to where she was going with this, I stepped to her side. Taking my hand, she further explained her idea:
“Skaði has a power over ice and snow. We have all felt the blast of her wind both here and at Thrymheim. I say that after the last harvest is brought in from the fields let the last offerings go to Nerþus to be held close as she slumbers. Let Sleipnir bring in the first cold to drive the people from their fields, the last sheaf of wheat from each field his fodder. Once Nerþus has officially retired for her much deserved slumber, Skaði can spread her cloak over the lands. She shall bring snow, ice, and wind; sweeping it over the homes in Midgarð and other realms. The people will seek shelter and cease their planting. Your Wild Hunt will surge forth and remind them to go within their homes and stay there to wait for warmer weather, cleaning the chaff and waste from the land. While within their homes, Frigg can show them her arts. She can share with them the glow of the hearth fires, the love of family and friends, and teach them to recite their tales through Saga. This time of quiet and quarantine shall remind them of the importance of hospitality and moderation to get them through the cold, dreary months. Each of us has gifts we can impart upon the folk that will teach them and sustain them while they are forced within.”
All of those present began to nod until Síf, wife of Thor, asked: “But how long should the cold be upon the lands? We cannot allow the snow and ice to last forever!”
Eostre smiled and answered this concern: “For most lands it will depend upon Sunna’s ride. But a good sign shall be once the cattle begin to lactate. This precipitation of new life will announce that it will be time for Nerþus to waken. I, myself, will begin the work of kissing the land back to life. I shall lure Sunna to stay longer each day with sweet blooms and bouncing babies to warm the earth. I will help to melt the snow, allowing Skaði to go home and enjoy her time to herself while making way for Nerþus to bring the deep Earth back to life. I will touch every tree, every flower, every newborn to share the gift of warmth and life. If that is acceptable to all, that is.”
Each of those named nodded their heads in agreement for it truly was the best arrangement. Nerþus then stepped forward, took Eostre’s hands and said: “Sweet child, I thank you. Your words are wise. Your love for me and mine will not be forgotten. As I take the seeds of the peoples within my lands, my gift to you, in thanks for your solution, will be the very first flower blooms. I propose this time of year will be given your name in honor of the solution you have offered.” She then took my hands, and I nodded my acceptance of the duty and honor given to me.
With this Oðin rose from his seat. “Let it be done. While Nerþus sleeps, Skaði will spread her cloak upon the lands. It will be the time of winter, marked by snow and ice. When Nerþus begins to awaken, the flowers shall bloom from the love and wisdom that all of you have shown this day. This time of the year shall be called ‘Spring.”’
The Æsir then began to teach the peoples how to prepare. They were shown the proper means for storage of food and grain, the most effective ways of providing protection for themselves as the winter winds swept through the lands. They were given the gift of arts from the hearth that they would be able to make for themselves warmer, sturdier clothing and feet coverings. Man was shown how to endure, how to weather the season—and even given the gift of reflection and deep thought. Thus began the cycles of the year. Even today, it is observed.”
As Skaði finished her tale, I was in awe. I asked: “but the people do not live off the land like that anymore. Why do we still need winter?”
With another smile and what must have been a great deal of patience, Skaði replied:
“For the people. You see, all the realms are even busier, they move even faster than they did then. Nerþus must still rest for there are even greater demands upon her. Winter is our gift to you. It is for you to reach out to family no matter how near or far. To sit. To rest. To contemplate. To consider all that there is around you. It still forces you within. And when you fail to pay attention, you fall. You break. It is yet another way we force you to be still. You push yourselves to the very limit of your endurance mentally, physically, and even emotionally. When do you rest? Even in sleep you are busy. It is only while you are forced inside your homes. Forced away from the bustle. Forced to watch closely, to pay attention that you slow down. It is in those times that you listen and heal.
Nerþus receives her rest, her replenishment for the year. The water to grow her seeds and feed the land lie in waiting all around you. Eostre receives the first flowers of spring. She awakens the land and brings a smile to Nerþus’ face. I then return home to rest, to feast, to prepare my own hall for those that would come until the time for winter returns. We all do our parts to ensure that all the lands, as well as their peoples, thrive. I do not bring the snow and ice to cause you harm or to inconvenience you. Rather I bring these things to give you what you do not give yourselves. It is my gift to you. My blessings so that when the times for travel and running, running, running are at hand; you have the energy and the strength to do it.”
Slowly, I began to understand. To think about all my winters and to realize that what she said was true. I DID slow down in the winter. I DID talk more to family and friends. I began to think of my grandmother, whom I hadn’t seen in several years and I started to long for her company, something I had never done before. Skaði hugged me again and said:
“Now, go on. You will be late. Do not fear that the snow and ice will remain. Eostre will soon walk by and Nerþus will begin her work. For now, look at the snow I have brought you. You will see the promise of Sunna’s return and the warmth it brings within its frame.” She picked up a handful of snow, placed it in my cupped hands, and held them up with the firelight behind. “Look closely. See how it shimmers? See how it glows? There is my promise to you. A promise that Sunna will return and spring is on its way. That life, and all it has to offer is not too far off.”
With that, I found myself alone still holding a small mound of snow. The baying of the wolves had ceased. The snow had slowed back down to a bare drifting. The wind had stopped, and a silence had descended upon the land. I looked around me in sudden understanding. I began to gather my things and walked slowly to the bus stop. I waited, resting and thinking until the bus pulled up. Before I took the final step out of the cold and onto the bus that would take me on to the rest of my day, I glanced behind for one last peek of the beautiful woman with the wolves. Instead, I saw the snow. For a brief moment, a ray of sunshine peeked through the murky clouds above and shone down upon the world around me. The snow began to shimmer and glow so brightly it almost blinded me. Instead of wincing and turning my eyes, I drank deeply. I drank of the promise Skaði had made me. I drank in the promise for the return of spring.
Sitting now in front of my fireplace, I hold my quilt tightly. That summer of my youth, I had gone to my grandmother’s house and shared the story of my experience. Not one to judge where divine inspiration came from, my grandmother took my story and brought it to life. She diligently sewed every stitch by hand the quilt I now hold. With the first snow that year, she mailed it to me. She was not to see Eostre’s touch upon the land again, but her legacy and the stories that she shared with me in those brief months were now mine to pass on.
Each winter I now share with my own children, and soon enough my grandchildren, the stories of Skaði, Nerþus Iðunn, Jorð, and Eostre. I teach them the beauty of winter and how important it is to rest. As I look out and see the snow and ice sparkle I remember the promise of spring that hangs in the air and how it glitters with hope waiting for Eostre to walk by, for Nerþus to bring the land to life, and for the warmth of Sunna to return in full. For now, though, I simply thank Skaði for her gift and the promise the Lady of the Wolves made us all.