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April at The Whidbey Institute
There is something I want to name that feels every bit as essential as the one hundred and six acres of forested beauty that hold us here.
It’s the people.
In The Deep Mid-Winter
Recently, I've been hearing the phrase, “It’s been a long year already,” and I felt that in my bones. And yet, February carries its own quiet magic and hope.
This is the season of Imbolc, an ancient Celtic time that honors growth in the darkness, the patience required when life is still unseen, and the grace of becoming amid uncertainty. The air may remain cold, but the Earth is already preparing to bear new life. If you look closely, you can see the signs everywhere: hellebore bursting into bloom, bulbs pressing upward through frozen soil, green tips daring their way toward the light. Nature reminds us that good things take time.
The Turning of the Year
January arrives quietly.
The rush of the holidays has passed, the days stretch longer by a breath at a time, and the land itself seems to exhale.
Winter Solstice: Returning to the Light
At the turning of the season, when night stretches to its longest reach, we find ourselves in the heart of winter. The Solstice is the darkest day of the year—yet it is also the threshold. This is the moment when the light begins to return.
Grief, Grace, and the Turning of the Year
As the days grow shorter and the air turns cool and fragrant with cedar and rain, I find myself feeling both tender and grateful. This time of year has a way of stirring something deep — a mix of beauty and melancholy, joy and grief.