HEARTHBLOSSOM

The Feeling of Spring Before Modern Life There was a time when the arrival of spring was not something to be admired from a car window or noticed in passing between errands. It was felt deeply, inside the home and in the body, after months of winter’s weight. Before modern conveniences softened the seasons, winter was long and close. Windows stayed shut tight against the cold. Fires burned constantly. Heavy quilts, wool blankets, and thick clothing layered daily life. Food came from storage. Days were short and dim, and much of life centered around endurance and patience. So when spring finally began to stir — slowly, almost shyly — it brought with it a profound sense of relief and renewal. The light lingered longer in the evening. The air shifted. Birds returned. The earth softened. And inside homes, people began to prepare for life to open again. Spring was not simply a change in weather. It was a turning of the entire household rhythm. Though modern life has insulated us from many s...

Even though Imbolc has passed on the calendar, its spirit lingers quietly in the late-winter air. This old festival was never just about a single day — it marked a turning point in the season. A subtle shift. The first hint that winter will not last forever. If you missed it this year, you’re not late. You’re simply arriving when you can, which is exactly how old seasonal living was meant to be. Let’s step into the story and bring a bit of Imbolc into the present moment. The History of Imbolc Imbolc is one of the ancient Celtic seasonal festivals, traditionally observed around February 1st, halfway between the winter solstice and the spring equinox. Its roots lie in Ireland, Scotland, and parts of Britain, where the land itself shaped the rhythm of life. The name Imbolc is often linked to the Old Irish phrase meaning “in the belly,” referring to pregnant ewes and the promise of new life stirring beneath the surface. This was a pastoral society’s early sign of spring — milk returning, ...

I turned forty-four this year. The number itself didn’t feel dramatic or frightening. It arrived quietly, the way most real milestones do — somewhere between morning coffee and the ordinary rhythm of a normal day. No sudden transformation. No lightning bolt of revelation. Just a gentle awareness that I am further along the path than I once was. And strangely, I feel more like myself than ever. Not a newer version. Not an improved version. Just… more fully me. A Different Kind of Birthday Reflection Birthdays in our younger years often carry a sense of urgency. There is always something we think we should have done by now, something we meant to become, something we hoped would look different. It can feel like a quiet measuring stick held up against an imagined timeline. But this birthday felt different. Instead of looking at what hasn’t happened, I found myself noticing what has settled into place. The life I have built. The home I tend. The family that fills my days. The small...