Even though the mud was frozen in pockets of hoofprints the air was softly cold. I was up a half hour later than usual and the sun was already throwing shadows, the sky a deep blue.
For the first time since early winter Canada geese flew over the farm, this time heading north. And as I mucked out the barn, I heard the cooing of pigeons, back from their winter migration, in the hayloft.
All signs of spring even though I know there are more wintery days to come.
Just yesterday I watched my neighbors, the mountains, fade in a swirl of falling snow. How much easier it is, I thought, to observe what is happening than try to control it.
By the afternoon it was warm enough even for Fate to wash the barnyard mud off of her in the pond.
Imbolc (meaning In the belly) is a pagan holy day during the early days of February that celebrates the first stirrings of spring. That may be the tradition, but I celebrated Imbolc today with the flying geese and cooing pigeons.