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Imbolc arrives not with thunder, but with a whisper—the soft sigh of thawing earth, the hush of snowmelt beneath the hedgerow. It is the quickening of the year, when life stirs unseen beneath the soil and the first lambs cry out in the cold.
By Fauna BlakewellImbolc arrives not with thunder, but with a whisper—the soft sigh of thawing earth, the hush of snowmelt beneath the hedgerow. It is the quickening of the year, when life stirs unseen beneath the soil and the first lambs cry out in the cold.