February is always a very intense month for me. We’ve celebrated Imbolc and the Blessings of Brigid, and now we stare the long last remnants of winter in the face. The February sun shines with an intensity that always appears this time of year and I watch each morning as the rise comes earlier and with growing force. February is the month I do work with truly releasing those things that do not serve me. It is the culmination of work that begins on Samhain as I celebrate my new year, and ends on Imbolc morning. I spend the remainder of the month simply letting go.
Each year is different. I set different goals and address different areas of my life. But the end is always the same, I have a list of things I set on fire and say goodbye to. Little by little , day by day I release another piece and I find myself lighter at the end and thankful for the time I spent looking at things a little more closely. With every ounce of clarity that comes to my mind, I grow a little more free.
February is also my birth month, it is also my mother’s birth month, and this year it will also hold the remembrance of my biological father’s death. It seems strange to think that all the things that helped to shape and make me, “me” are so closely grouped together in this one short space of time. The shortest month of our calendar year holds the weight of all these things inside it, like snow clouds billowed up that refuse to let go of their fall. I walk slowly and gently through this stretch of days, ever mindful of landmines I laid for myself many many moons ago and begin the hard work of dismantling them.
In my mind’s eye I clear a field a year and sometimes that doesn’t feel like a lot, until I look behind me. The carefully cleared and cultivated new growth that follows in my footsteps is undeniable. And as I begin the work on a new field, the others behind me begin their turn towards spring and the returning warmth. Everywhere there are signs of the fruits of my labor. I see my heart grow softer, and my smile turn longer. I can feel my hands become more gentle as I disengage hair triggers, that would have annihilated me years before, and with every cut wire and uncovered snare I become more free.
Just as with clearing of my heart’s fields, the clearing and preparing of the garden beds reaches full pitch quite quickly in February also. Beds are turned and fed according to their needs, plans are laid for new beds, and the never ending moving of mulch and compost and dirt begins in earnest.
I am fortunate to live somewhere that offers up about an eight month growing season that can easily be stretched to year round with a greenhouse or cold frame. The cover on my little greenhouse has given up its final ghost and is being converted to a living tunnel this year. My goal is to create an interactive space that we can enjoy and truly live in. Delilah the cat is not as enthused about the opening up of this space as I am. More often than not in the winter you can find her on a shelf enjoying the warmth and napping. Perhaps the newly planned catnip pad will appease her inner Goddess.
I will be building two new long raised beds against both sides and we will have a lovely array of runner beans and sunflowers. Beautiful blue morning glories and night time balloons to smile at. I will fill the boxes with marigolds and zinnias and maybe a butterfly bush at one end. I believe strongly in filling my garden beds with flowers. Petunias among the peppers and delicate squash snuggled safely under the giant elephant ears. Dahlias and cannas share space with okra and tomatoes.
I have dreams for two more raised beds this year although I am aware I may be biting off more than I can chew. Our largest project this year is by far the building of the new chicken coop. My little boy goblin made it very clear: “it’s awfully hard to be farmer, if’n you ain’t got no chickens”. So in our effort to support the up and coming farmers in our youth, chickens will be got. We’ve agreed that six is an appropriate size for a beginner flock, after all, what if you’re really supposed to be a goat farmer and you’re unfortunately covered up in chickens?
Several years ago I wrote a song titled , I Aint Dead Yet. As I grow older, and with the last year presenting a lot of changes to my own property, I have come back to it again and again. I knew watching the devastation of the land around my home would have a profound effect on me. However, I was not prepared for the strength of it. Growing up with a true sense of how important the land is to an individual brings a lot of perspective in your later years in life. Having an allotted piece to call my own is incredibly important to me.
I wrote I Ain’t Dead Yet as a gift for a friend. You can read what he has to say about it, and how he made the song his own, in this post. I invite you to make it your own, in your way.
As I have watched the tree line fall and fade in places, I have become even more incredibly aware of how fleeting our time here is. Beings that stood for hundreds of years were demolished and all traces of their lives removed in seconds. How quickly can I also be removed from all of history? In the end, I don’t have any real desire to create a world-long foot print, just to live as gently as I can on this green earth as long as I am here. So, I will also spend some time this month clearing room for what really matters, and on what I wish to have a true impression upon. My family, my friends, and all those that I love. I encourage you to do the same. Look, long and hard into that dark mirror of this side of winter and decide what you want to take with you. Set the rest down, leave it there on the ground to blow away in the winter winds. Walk forward into spring, head high, shoulders back and heart full.
Work in February for me seems never ending. It’s all good work but hard work still. My hands and heart both get muddied up and bruised a little, but they all come out cleaner on the other side. Everything is cleared out, cleaned and hung out on the line to catch the winter wind to be blown away. More room is made for the things that truly matter, and with every day that passes I grow a little more free.
February is full of freedom, you just need to have the hands to grab it.
Breathe it.
Live it.
Cover photo of garden tools by Tania Malréchauffé
For more information about Krista Chapman Green, including her collected articles here on Pagan Song, her bio, and links to Krista’s sites on the web, check out Krista’s page on Pagan Song.
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I love your very visual description of the inner work of “clearing fields”. Thank you!
You are so very welcome! Growing up on a large farm created a very visual way of thinking for me, from the time I was very very young. Something was always being down or cleared. The fruits of labor were very clearly seen and felt. I suppose that has stuck with me my entire life! Thanks for the feedback and taking the time to sit with these words.