February
The lull lingers as the light returns, days lengthen and time is measured in millimetres as I observe the emergence of newness in the cottage garden. The birds nesting in our roof serenade the seasons shoots as they breakthrough the wintered ground… it’s a time of awakening, a time of renewal.
By day, the low light highlights weathered walls and frosted deadheading left for winter wildlife. A lapse in tending leaves the garden yearning for a fresh start so I surrender to nature’s lead and start to clear the way for new growth.
February calls us to respond. It is not passive, it asks something of us, it’s an invitation. I liken this to the creative process, it asks us to show up in small ways, with consistency. To prepare, to play and to practice… allowing us to be available for inspiration to land and grow… and so I accept and make way; I continue to commune with cycles and return to light.
By night, I ruminate in the last of the darkness as it frames the face of February’s snow moon. She is a constant. A reminder that sometimes parts of us are hidden - phases allow times of recluse and eclipse, where ideas can feel elusive, and inspiration veiled.
Yet permission is granted to wax and wane in the knowledge that, even when concealed in part, she remains entirely whole.
As above, so below.
Great beauty comes from darkness.
Transformation comes from darkness.
Spring flowers come from darkness.