The Quickening Moon
A wander round the garden after supper when there was a rare lull in the rain revealed a full snow moon, creeping out from behind the clouds, gifting the clumps of snowdrops at the bottom of the garden a luminescence which was quite breath-taking.
This moon marks Imbolc (or Candlemas), the halfway point between the winter solstice and the spring equinox, when the light is noticeably different. It’s also known as the Quickening Moon , a reference to the first noticeable stirrings of life in nature - snowdrops, catkins, even daffodils pushing up in the grass verges on my route into work. Snowdrops may take centre stage in my night time garden but the daytime champs without doubt are hellebores. The queens of a February day, flopping their heads to the ground when frozen and springing back to life when the sun touches their stems. The epitome of resilience.
Looking out onto most of the garden in the daylight, one would be forgiven for thinking that nothing much is happening. It’s a study in green and brown; the trees are bare. But look closely and it’s a different story. Nothing dramatic; just a gentle awakening and unfurling.
My work life mirrors nature.
By design.
After a period of reflection and planning, a kind of hibernation if you will, this week sees the first stirrings of some new projects.
I am starting up a new Grief Cafe in my home town tomorrow morning. I’m starting small but have already made some valuable connections who can collaborate to make it a truly uplifting space.
Then on Saturday I am joining Grow for Life at their new garden space at Dorothy House hospice to make a start on laying a dead hedge. I’ll be starting a cutting patch there once the weather warms up. For now I’ve sown sweet peas in the cold frame and a few early hardy annuals on the kitchen windowsill.
The rest of the week is devoted to my sixth formers who are starting to pick up the pace of their revision for mocks - both those in my own class and a few from elsewhere that I’ve just started coaching.
The quickening.
Slowly, deliberately it’s time to embrace the inevitable growth of the new season.