Kate Greenough Richardson

Each year around Beltaine, some friends of mine from the hilltowns of Massachusetts make an effigy of Old Man Winter. On May Day morning he is ceremonially thrown off a scenic gorge into the rushing water below. Before his departure, I have been for a number of years delivering a eulogy to honor the season’s passing. If Winter were a man who was born around Solstice, reached his prime around Imbolc, waned into his elder years through the Equinox and finally died by Beltane, what kind of a person was he? What did he achieve, bring us, or teach us during his life? Here follows my eulogy for the winter that just passed.

Eulogy for Old Man Winter 2025
How shall we remember this Winter now that his time has passed?

I have spoken to so many people who have had hard times and much loss since Winter was born between Samhain and Solstice. In the course of his life, there’s been so much upheaval and anxiety in the world, and so much work that needs doing.
In this context the Winter came like a gentleman. He certainly had his own work to do, and he did it, but without an unduly heavy hand. He offered early ice to skate on. Later there was snow for skiing, though not as much as some might wish. I even heard him called a weakling on account of the shortage of good skiing in the hills. But others called him considerate, even cozy. Myself, I wonder if maybe he was a bit depressed, just hanging on and filling out his obligations, waiting out the time till his inevitable end.
When it was time to depart, he did so without much fuss. There was one last April snow, but in most places it was more nostalgic than earnest. Big flakes to remind us of the feeling of the early winter’s fat harvest festivals, and the snowpiles were soon gone without the town ever breaking out the plows.
Now as spring emerges so do the people, seeking each other and seeking the warmth and the energy to do the work that still needs to be done. The green and the blooms cheer us on as we make our way down Winter’s funeral path. We are reminded that, however sad and dire things may be, life will go on. We must acknowledge the hardships, but we should also celebrate the joys.
Let us look to each other and see that we are still standing, while Old Man Winter has fallen, as all tyrants eventually must fall. Tie your sorrows to his withered corpse, and heave them away; make room for the hope and promise of renewal.
Hail the Spring!

Photos by Chris LaFond