Imbolc: A Time of Possibility

The first stirrings of spring are upon us. Snowdrops push their delicate heads through the cold earth, and the daffodils stand poised, ready to burst into golden brilliance. The air still carries the chill of winter, but on a day like today, when the sun finally breaks through, there is a hum of possibility.

Imbolc, the ancient festival marking the midpoint between winter and spring, is a time of renewal and awakening. It is a moment to honour Brigid, the goddess of fertility, poetry, and creativity, and to acknowledge the quiet work that has been happening beneath the surface during the long, dark months. The Queen Bee will soon emerge, ready to pollinate and bring forth new life. The landscape is shifting, stretching, and preparing for something bold.

And so are we.

These in-between moments—the threshold spaces—are where the magic happens. The time when ideas are still forming, where conversations are rich with possibility, and where the impossible starts to feel within reach. Today, in the sunshine, it feels like anything is possible. A giant game of Consequences, unfolding across the land, weaving people, stories, and places together in ways we have yet to imagine. Feels more than possible.

This week I’ve had the most awe-inspiring chats with Nick Hayes about giants and decolonising English folk traditions.

Also, just have to mention the amazing meeting with all of the other Nature Calling artists—so many brilliant minds creating such incredible projects. Check them out here. It’s so energising to be surrounded by people dreaming up wild, beautiful, meaningful work.

And deep appreciation for the team around me at National Landscapes and Activate, who are supporting this mad idea as it still warms up under the ground, gathering nutrients and warmth—ready to meet the sun.

Oh, and you really must listen to the latest episode of the Blindboy podcast—it’s just so excellent and speaks to so much of this!

So, here we are, in this glorious in-between space. Imbolc reminds us that even in the depths of winter, change is brewing. The seeds we plant now, the wild ideas we throw into the mix, the people we gather around us—it all shapes what’s to come.

Here’s to the unfolding, the serendipitous connections, and the mad, brilliant ideas that are just beginning to take root.

Spring is coming. Let’s make it ridiculous and glorious.

(Oh, and here’s a picture of the snowdrops in my garden. Look at them, just doing their thing!)