Today, I did galdr with the Rune Fehu.
When I galdred Fehu I was outside. It was cold, but not too uncomfortable. My first galdr I did three times and sat in the quiet, frigid evening. It was almost midnight. When I was not galdring, I had my pipe between my teeth or in my hand with whisps of Großmutter Una’s burning body rising up before me. I felt the tingle of the Rune’s response.
I galdred three times, and breathed deep with each galdr. The last round had been shallower, lighter. This one was deeper, huskier. A light breeze was blowing, but what I felt more than the cold was the latent warmth of the Earth beneath me. The pulse of Midgard. Not as vibrant as, say Summer, but still quite there.
I breathed in the sacred smoke three times, blew out, and then galdred rough, growling. A lot louder than I had been. When I finished I could hear the echo out over the abandoned farm country behind the house. Then, to my surprise, a cacophony of coyotes kicked up in response to the first galdr. I galdred again, and they returned with howls. The third galdr, and the continued to howl and yip. I had a flash of seeing animals tucked away in little buildings, coops and the like, and another sight of winter wheat though we have none planted right now. Warm things, baked things, and also hunting, of tracking things over cold land for a good meal.
I breathed for a bit and took in the presence of the Rune as the coyotes continued for a bit. It was an interesting dichotomy, between the warmth of bread and soup in a warm house and hunting down warm prey in the cold. To chase and tear on the one hand, and to dig into stores and settle down for the cold of Winter on the other.