I recognise the feeling now, my fourth cycling through this mark in the year, the third time while paying attention. A restlessness, an urge to sort things out, to move around and touch and handle my things, in contrast to the heavy pull to stillness of December, always fought against by the inevitable busyness that the run up to Christmas brings. The end of January feels different, and I start to want to to put my house in order in preparation for… what? The coming burst of growth that is spring, I now think. I had noticed the urge before I read up and learned that a spring clean was one of the ways to prepare for Imbolc. I wondered if I had always felt it, but not known what it was about. If a meaningless stirring had just added to the previous uncomfortable experience of January as a miserable sort of month. This year, distracted by other things, the urge preceded my realisation of where we were in the year once again. The familiar feeling grounded me. Ah, it must soon be Imbolc.
Beautiful as ever, Marchelle. So looking forward to reading the book! X
Thank you, Eleanor! It feels like it’s getting very close now! 💚