Imbolc is Here
Spring is Near
story by Donna Hecker & photography by Talitha Schroeder
Tucked into the dark days of winter, somewhere between the New Year and Valentine’s Day, arriving just as we can no longer tolerate the colors gray and brown, is an ancient Irish festival, worth rousing ourselves out of somnolence to celebrate.
Imbolc heralds the rush of warm milk as ewes begin lambing, the return of rich butter, and golden yolks from eggs newly laid. It’s the halfway point from the winter solstice to the spring equinox and in olden days, it marked the time when farmers began preparing their fields for planting. Imbolc means “in the belly” in old Irish, symbolizing new life, increased daylight, and the onset of spring.
Observance of Imbolc/St. Brigid’s Day, now a national Irish holiday, varies slightly each year. Traditionally it fell on February 1 or 2 and coincided with the Christian holy day Candlemas, another celebration of light, both metaphorical and physical. St. Brigid was a Catholic saint thought to have been preceded by a pagan goddess of the same name.
Imbolc is a fire festival and the original Brigid was keeper of the hearth – goddess of fire, water and poetry. Her namesake is the patron saint of many things agricultural – dairymaids, cattle and chicken farmers, blacksmiths and brewers (for her ability to turn water into beer).
It’s the custom in Ireland to place a horseshoe in the fire overnight on St. Brigid’s night, then hang it curved side down on the front door for good luck. An image as instantly familiar to us Kentuckians as the nineteenth-century dry stone fences that line our country roads – another legacy from the Irish – and which were often built with the skilled hands and forced labor of enslaved workers.
In our own little corner of Kentucky, the Holly Hill Inn gardeners are sorting seeds and planning plots. They’re staking out patches of lawn to be transformed into early lettuces and herbs, summer beanstalks and okra pods, and flowers for plates and bouquets. An old well is being restored and fitted with a pump and water line. And staff farmer David Wagoner is headed to France soon to revisit its potagers and parterres in search of instructive inspiration.
When Holly Hill Inn was simply Up Home to the folks who lived here, its ten acres were capable of sustaining the family and their guests. We may never regain that level of productivity – after all, we entertain dozens more than even Isaac Parrish in his prime – but we are aiming for enough herbs to flavor our dishes and be dried for blends; blooms to fill our vases; leather britches for stringing; and heirloom tomatoes for summer Caprese salads.
In the meantime, we’ll celebrate Imbolc in pleasant anticipation of spring, and cook foods full of butter, milk, eggs, and cheese – symbolic of sunshine, fertility, and renewal. Perhaps we’ll whip up a chess pie or a Dutch baby, Germanic in origin but gastronomically correct.
How will you welcome spring?
Related Content
Dutch Baby Basics
Scandinavia and Germany got together and had a baby and named it for Holland. If you've never tried a Dutch baby, now's the perfect time. It comes together in minutes and turns a bowl of soup into dinner. Or go sweet and whip one up for dessert or breakfast.
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