Imbolc has grown on me over the years. Like the growing light of the days, finally discernible after the long dark of winter nights, Imbolc makes its presence quietly known. I’ve never had a strong connected with Brigit, Bríd, or any of the patron saints and gods of this holiday. I admit that the lore only finally made sense to me after living in Wales, across from a sheep field.
What I’ve noticed here in Washington is that Imbolc is the False Spring. Yes, there’s more light. Yes, some buds are sticking their bright heads out, testing the air. But it isn’t truly spring yet. Earlier this week we had several bright, sunny days. One day was in the low 60s. I saw some bees out. Little bugs flitting over the grass. One tree in my neighborhood put out its bright pink blossoms. Crocuses are popping up purple and blue heads.
I have no personal lore connected to this season. My Craft tradition has a lovely liturgy for the turning of this portion of the Wheel, but I have a hard time getting to the rituals. Instead, I’m slowly building up my relationship with this “holiday” based on my experiences here.
Blessings to you as the Wheel turns, where ever you are!