Imbolc By Katherine Emery General

It’s been a challenging week weather-wise, ice everywhere. On my walk with my dog this afternoon, we moved carefully around the block, navigating narrow paths where sidewalks have been shoveled just wide enough for one person. I paused for a neighbor who stepped aside, shaking his head at the ice and saying spring can’t come fast enough.

And yet, as difficult as this season has been, I’m not ready for spring. I haven’t had my fill of winter’s coziness. I’m still drawn to warm layers and soft slippers, to fires in the hearth and meals that simmer slowly and “stick to our bones.” Winter continues to offer an invitation to rest, to simplify, to turn inward.

Imbolc arrives at this exact threshold. Falling midway between the Winter Solstice and the Spring Equinox, Imbolc marks a subtle but powerful shift in the year. The light is growing stronger now, even if the cold persists. Beneath frozen soil, seeds are stirring. The deep grip of winter has not released us, but it has begun to loosen.

This year, Imbolc is illuminated by the full Snow Moon, amplifying its energy and meaning. The full moon brings clarity, it shines light on what is ready to be released and reveals the new beginnings quietly forming within us. At Imbolc, we are not asked to leap forward, but to prepare. To tend the space where something new will eventually grow.

Without consciously planning it, I have been engaging in Imbolc rituals all weekend. I’ve been lighting candles first thing in the morning, bringing warmth and light into my home. I baked bread this afternoon to go with the hearty soup that bubbled on the stove. I cleaned, rearranged, and cleared small corners of my space, letting go of what felt heavy or unnecessary. These acts were humble and practical, yet deeply symbolic: tending the hearth, preparing the body and home, making room.

I’m still firmly in the cozy phase of the season. My hands are busy knitting hats and scarves, stitch by stitch, a slow and meditative rhythm that feels like its own kind of prayer. I drink hot tea throughout the day and spend evenings watching movies that ask nothing of me but presence. These, too, are rituals, simple, repetitive, comforting.

Even my table reflects this lingering devotion to winter. My Portmeirion dinner plates still bear the holly and the ivy, a small but deliberate choice. I’m not ready to switch to the Botanic Garden plates just yet. Those will wait until March, when the earth itself is further along in its turning. For now, I honor the season I am still in.

The Snow Moon carries its influence throughout the entire month. Its energy encourages gentle preparation; welcoming what is new with intention while releasing what slows us down or no longer serves our lives. This is not a dramatic purge, but a mindful clearing. A ritual of readiness.

And still, the Snow Moon reminds us that winter is not yet complete. There is wisdom in honoring the season we are still in. There is beauty in rest, in quiet, in allowing things to unfold slowly. Imbolc does not demand that we rush toward spring; it simply asks us to notice the light returning and to tend the flame within.

Beneath the snow and ice, something is beginning. And for now, it is enough to “stay the course” and wait till the end of the month to prepare the way for spring.

Katherine Emery General is a retired chef/restaurant owner who was born and raised in Casper, Wyoming. Kate loves her grandchildren, knitting, and watercolor painting. Kate and her husband, Matt are longtime residents of Cambridge’s West End where they enjoy swimming and bicycling.