Imbolc has always felt like a quiet turning point for me. A soft inhale after the long exhale of winter. Traditionally, it marks the first stirring of spring. The promise of light returning, of ideas and hopes beginning to thaw. Snowdrops push through cold soil, lambing season begins, and there is a subtle shift from endurance to possibility.
This year, I am marking Imbolc very far from home.
I am currently in Sydney, staying with a dear friend and helping care for her new baby, which feels beautifully aligned with the spirit of Imbolc. New life is already here. Encompassing and joyful and reshaping the rhythm of each day. Alongside long walks with the buggy to help her drift off to sleep, I have found myself gently gestating something of my own. New ideas, new ways of thinking about my business, and a different pace of creativity. Still fragile, still warming, but very much alive.
A Seasonal Jolt
The seasonal shift has been intense. I have travelled from the bleak midwinter of the UK straight into the height of the Australian summer. The heat, the brightness, the dryness of the land all feel worlds away from the soft greys I left behind. It has been confronting and invigorating in equal measure, and it has asked me to adapt quickly.
While I am here, I have been learning about the ways different Aboriginal cultures understand the seasons, particularly the six-season calendar of the Noongar people of south-west Western Australia. Aboriginal seasonal knowledge is deeply place-based, shaped by land, climate, plants, and animals, and specific to Country. These systems have existed for tens of thousands of years and remind me that there is no single, universal way to experience seasonal change. In the six season calander its almost time for 'Bunuru' which is the season associated with adolesence and learning new skills. I can hear the circadas and smell the fragrant blossom in the balmy evenings.
Although I am not on Noongar Country, simply knowing that these layered seasonal understandings exist has shifted how I pay attention to where I am. It has encouraged me to listen more closely, feel more grounded, and to see adaptability as a strength rather than a compromise.
Holding Two Truths at Once
Back home, Imbolc usually makes me want to plan ahead and plant seeds, both literally and creatively. It is the moment when winter begins to loosen its grip. Here in the opposite hemisphere, new life is also being celebrated, just through a very different seasonal lens. The energy is high, expansive, and at times overwhelming. It feels like a glimpse of what may be waiting for me when I return home. Spring energy arrives after rest, hopefully bringing renewed creativity and momentum with it.
Right now, adaptability feels essential. Instead of forcing productivity, I am letting myself be shaped by where I am. By heat, by community, and by moments of joy. By the simple rhythm of connection, movement, and staying present.
Connecting with my friend’s baby has been an immersive and joyful distraction from the grey skies I left behind. There is something so special about witnessing life at its very beginning. Imbolc has always been a time for reconnecting with loved ones, with hopes and dreams, as the long wintering period begins to fade, and this year that reconnection feels especially tangible.
Gentle Sparks of Inspiration
Just after Imbolc, the Full Moon rises in Leo, the sign my friend’s baby was born under. That feels quietly fortuitous. Leo carries themes of warmth, creativity, confidence, and heart-led expression, and celebrating beneath its glow feels like a reminder to take up space again after a long period of hibernation. To create boldly, even when the shape of what comes next is still unclear.
I keep thinking about The Artist’s Way, which I read a few years ago, and the idea of taking yourself on an artist’s date. Giving yourself permission to step away, to gather inspiration rather than constantly produce. This trip feels like that. An inspiration break I did not know I needed.
It also feels significant that Imbolc often sits close to Chinese New Year, which in 2026 falls on Tuesday 17th February. Blossom plays a powerful symbolic role in these celebrations, representing renewal, fragile hope, and fresh beginnings after winter’s stillness. Those themes echo beautifully with my Blossom jewellery, a delicate reminder that the most beautiful things can emerge from the rest of winter.
As I mark Imbolc this year, I am holding space for rest and renewal, for softness and energy, and for plans that have not yet fully revealed themselves. Wherever you are in the world, I hope this season offers you a gentle spark of what is to come.
