Mean Geimhreadh

An excerpt from my work-in-progressImage from MarioEppinger on Pixabay

Colder weather crept in as the days became shorter and the nights longer. The sun rarely peeked out from the gray cloud-cover overhead; Étaín and Brigit turned their faces towards the rays when they could, wrapping their brats around them to keep out the wind as they did the day’s chores before hurrying back into the house, where the fire seemed all the warmer and brighter for dark, dying world outside. Étaín helped Br...