Nearly every year a loosely knit tribe of seasonal druids known as the Pine & Prairie Druid Conclave gather on the frozen fields of my neighbor Jim's farm. Jim is the high priest and bard of the event which draws curious friends and lineage. After the sun has set, the mystical veil of darkness gives way to constellations of stars and sparks from a huge bonfire which lights the cold horizon. And soon after, it begs both pagans and believers to it's flame.
This year the time honored tradition of celebrating the Winter Solstice will again occur at the ancient ceremonial grounds behind the big red barn. There will undoubtedly be warm, spiced spirits served in the shelter of a small greenhouse hovel that serves as a respite between his abode and the field were the bonfire blazes.
Over the years drums, flutes, and lute like instruments known as "guitars" have been brought out cautiously to add rhythm and sound to the night time magic. A dance known as the druid hop was concieved a few years back, and performed around the fire after fermented concoctions were consumed in large quantities. This evening should be no different, though this solstice falls on a Monday eve. The gatherers and hunters will be eager to prolong the weekend and well ready for comradely.
After the fire dies to embers the Klan will return to home and hearth to eat the flesh of dead animals and count noses to be sure no druid has passed out in the snow, for that would cast a pall on the evening and bring bad luck.
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