I received a
snowdrop plant this week.
It seemed a simple gesture at the time. However, the longer I think about it, the more pertinent it becomes. We had the first snow of winter today and tomorrow is the first day of February – wolf month, the time of first shoots and the returning light through the dimness of winter. It is also the Celtic fire festival of Imbolg, ewe’s milk; as new lambs are sustained by their mother’s milk, so we can begin to sustain ourselves from the land as the first furrows are ploughed in anticipation of spring planting. White as the snow that can often bury the fragile flowers, snowdrops occurring in nature are our first sign of hope; hope that the severity of winter will be overturned by spring’s fair blossoming. Hope that the introspection of our own lives through the dark days will bring fruitful rewards, as we action the dreams we made at the start of the new year, emerging from hibernation to illuminate the world with our ideas.
It seemed a simple gesture at the time. However, the longer I think about it, the more pertinent it becomes. We had the first snow of winter today and tomorrow is the first day of February – wolf month, the time of first shoots and the returning light through the dimness of winter. It is also the Celtic fire festival of Imbolg, ewe’s milk; as new lambs are sustained by their mother’s milk, so we can begin to sustain ourselves from the land as the first furrows are ploughed in anticipation of spring planting. White as the snow that can often bury the fragile flowers, snowdrops occurring in nature are our first sign of hope; hope that the severity of winter will be overturned by spring’s fair blossoming. Hope that the introspection of our own lives through the dark days will bring fruitful rewards, as we action the dreams we made at the start of the new year, emerging from hibernation to illuminate the world with our ideas.
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