Statistically speaking January is the most depressing month of the year. The weather is usually cold and wintry limiting our daylight and time spent outdoors. The fun and frivolities of the festive season feel like a lifetime ago and everything feels just a little bit flat and frozen. Push past the comfort of your home and step outside into nature however, and already there are signs of the promise of new life stirring just beneath the soil.
Winter’s Quiet Hold
The beginning of January finds the world quieter, and there is a hush to the cold morning air as the sun begins its slow ascent.
There is not the usual morning choir of birdsong that accompanies me in the later months, only a solitary robin or blackbird that beckons the spring.
The trees stand bare, appearing vulnerable in their nakedness, their long slender limbs fully visible following the leaf shedding of the autumn.
Woodlands that once seemed dense now appear sparse. The lack of vegetation leaves it unshrouded by the usual greenery. Instead greys and browns camouflage it into the earthy backdrop of winter’s pallor.
A solitary heron stands unmoving in the early morning mist, suspended in time at the bank of the river.
If we did not know better we may think the world around us dead, frozen in a state of decay and descent. Slowly however the earth offers signs of hope, renewal, and hints of warmer days to come.
Subtle Shifts
As the wheel turns towards Imbolc, we are given ever more signs of Earth’s promise, life is returning. Early green-yellow catkins of hazel dance in the wind giving rise to their alternative name of lambs tails. The bright new growth stands out against the dull backdrop of the hedgerow like shots of silly string fired from natures cannon.
Deep reds and purples are found on the Alder catkins and fresh new season shoots of Elder. There are so many Alder on the hills near where I live that the mountain itself takes on a purple hue in places. Later in the month as we near Imbolc light muted greens are cast across the mountainside as new shoots of larch accompany the hazel in their unfurling verdure. The change in nature’s palette across the land begins subtly at first before giving way to the riot of colour later in the spring season.
Seeking Light in the Dark
It is at this time of year that I struggle with the dark. What once brought comfort in the offer of early nights curled up with movies, a warm drink and cosy blankets, now feels restrictive and heavy. I long for the light of longer days. For daily walks filled with a rich green tapestry of land, fully awakened and accompanied by a cacophony of birdsong.
For the pops of colour that appear with each new spring flower that unfolds and for that fresh, new spring scent that lightly permeates the air.
But we are not there just yet.
For me, this time of in-between feels like a threshold. Neither winter nor spring. The days though short are just beginning to stretch that little bit longer. The weather though frequently still cold at this time of year has often lost the icy bitterness of deeper winter. And though the suns warmth is still in its infancy, it does offer the hope of warmer days to come.
Tending to the Internal Land
I am however, not naive enough to think that winter has lost its grip entirely just yet.
I understand the fragility of those tender new shoots just emerging. One heavy snow fall or deep hoar frost and they could be lost, much like our emerging intentions and dreams for the year ahead.
They too are still in their beginnings. Without vigilant feeding and nurturing, they could be lost to the grind of our routines and the pressing concerns of modern life.
This threshold time is perfect for planning and preparing the ground for our ideas to later flourish.
I cast out that which no longer nourishes my dreams and plan how I will feed them going forward. Will they need more passion and energy or will they need strength and determination to bring them fully to fruition? Will I need to change or adapt my routines and lifestyle to make room for them to expand or, will they manage to grow well alongside my current schedule? What can I plan or implement now that will make the busier seasons this year easier to navigate whilst manifesting my intentions?
And just like in nature, I know that with the return of the light so too will my energy and passion return once more igniting my internal fire.
Awakening in the Hedgerows
In the meantime I look for signs in nature that we are getting closer to that time. These daily signs bring me hope for the future and comfort me while I await springs return once more. Snowdrops pushing up through frost bitten lawns, the tiny ember-like red flowers of the Hazel, the swelling buds of Oak, Chestnut and Ash. All are gratefully received like little gifts offered up by natures own hand.
Carrying Dreams Into Spring
And so I patiently wait, using the pause of this threshold time to nurture my dreams. Soon, Spring’s arrival will be announced here by the glorious yellows of primroses, celandine and daffodils covering the hillsides.
The return of the Sun will echo the golden hue across the land and fill me with joy and optimism.
As I carry my dreams forward into being, I will remember that even in darkness, hope can be found in the first green hints of Spring.
Like to learn how to easily I.D. trees in their winter attire while waiting for Spring? This article by The Tree Council will help you do just that The secret to winter tree ID
And if you’d like to know how this whole adventure of writing began for me, I’ve shared that story here
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