paired with foxes, described as young and perhaps childish. So as we head into the Anglo-Saxon month of Eosturmonath (rougly equivalent with our modern April), I'd like to write about some of my own impressions of Her.
For me, She is not just a Goddess of the spring. It is one of Her domains, yes, and a very important one. But primarily for me, She is the Goddess of the dawn. The linguistics of Her name supports this - Eostre is etymologically linked to *austrōn, a Proto-Germanic reconstruction meaning 'dawn'. Through this, She is linked to a fair number of Indo-European dawn deities, including the Vedic Ushas, the Roman Aurora, and Greek Eos.
This time of year, I am still rising just a bit before dawn. As I wake to dark windows and a silent home, I remember a bit of a poem by Rumi that I loved as a teen: "The breeze at dawn has secrets to tell you. Don't go back to sleep!". I come before my east-facing patio door, a large window that looks out over my backyard, and say my prayers to the deities of the sun and the morning that I honor: to the morning star, to the sun, to the opener of the gates of dawn.
It is Eostre who holds that honor for me, afire in a blaze of golden and red and pink glory. She throws open the gates, Her face shining with the holy light of the sun as Sunne passes by. Her arms are raised, drinking in the glory, Her gown whipping against Her with the wind raised by the force of the sun. She looks to the heavens above the earth in acknowledgement, but also with a sense of triumph: the stars will be put out, and She will be responsible for bringing real light to the world. She is fire and glory and too bright to comprehend, a deity who will not tone down Her shining, holy light for my sake. This is my Eostre, how She appears to me each morning as I implore Her to please open the gates.