Figit - The Troubadours were primarily associated with the Languedoc & there are evident cultural & spiritual links with The Cathars
, who flourished in the region at the same time, until they were purged by the Albigensian Crusade. There are some very fine Troubadour lyrics concerning the desolations of Winter, such as Jaufre Rudel's Lancan li Jorn , though the whole notion of The Winter Solstice would appear to be as much of a red herring as the rest of Modern Paganism.

Tabster - It is you who are doing the belittling here; never once have I taken any sort of affront to anything you've written. Forgive my wary cynicism about your friends, but it was you who brought them into it & I'm sure I'm not alone in finding the notion of a family preserving some and ancient & hitherto uncollected lore a tad fantastical. It is fantastical, very fantastical, but never once have I doubted their existence. I think if you bring something like this into a discussion, then at least you should be prepared to back it up with some real meat, otherwise, why bother mentioning them in the first place?

Meanwhile, I'm off to consult my Green Man Oracle cards, thus seeking the Revelation of the Ancient Inner Tradition we carry within us all - at least those of us who are fortunate to be part of that Enlightened Elite who might think of themselves as the True Bearers of that Ancient Inner Tradition.

And as I thread the Inner Winter-Woodland Path, lo, the Green Man appears before me and saith:

In Winter-time, I danced alone and felt the growing cold:
and lighting fires from fallen trees, I warmed my dying soul.

In comes I my face so Green;all Holly-Bright and Ivy-Shine
My dance is cast by valley and hill; I dance this way in winter still:
bare black trees and frost hard earth await my touch and vibrant breath.
Green my sign this winter long; seek ye that glad and ancient song
that's sung before this frost cold death; follow my voice by the bright Green Wreath.
All Holly-Bright and Ivy-Shine: Holly Crown bright blood-red of the wine.
So let faith not be failing now dark cold is here; for She is a-weaving as Springtime draws near.

I saw the Sun, reborn again, melt through the Winter Song;
And drank afresh from Holy Streams, swollen with the thaw.

And I reply:

Anyone fancy a pint?