Here in Louisiana, Imbolc signals a sort of pre-Spring, Spring. (What 'til you hear about our Second Winter and Summer IV!)
All around me I'm seeing brand new buds, from the Samhain-swept branches of the shrub in my back yard, to the welcoming domains of fresh flowers on the weeds behind the fence.
True to its name, Imbolc ("in the belly") brought me the same message I got almost exactly a year ago from my brother-in-law: "The ewe dropped her lamb!"
Celtic folk associate Imbolc with the Goddess (or Saint, or Loa, if you prefer) Bridget. I admittedly know very little about her so far, but I do know she is often seen as a forger of metal tools.
Whatever archetypal art lives through her images, it is now the time her name is spoken most—a time of year for my area that makes me feel like I'm watching the forging of new life from past death... live.
We don't have snow concealing the Earth's secrets. In Louisiana we're privileged with a peek behind the curtain, to watch as the breath of life enters many a seed and sleepy plant, from the soil to the trees.
The darkest days are behind us, the Sun is rising again, and we're reminded once more of the creative payoff of rest... for a tree, and perhaps for we.
Happy Tomb-to-Womb Weekend 🌱
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Image Credit: Unknown
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