Imbolc & The Pagan Roots of Groundhog Day : Jenn Campus Author

Discover the deep roots of Imbolc and Groundhog Day—how our ancestors read the land’s signs, honored hibernating animals, and welcomed the returning light.

February opens with Imbolc, a Gaelic festival to celebrate the coming of spring, where we tend the embers of renewal within ourselves, preparing for the rebirth yet to come. It asks us to start brushing away the cobwebs of winter and tend to what still lingers in the shadows.

Imbolc is not the riotous bloom of spring; it is the promise of it. The seed, not the flower. The hush before the dawn. It reminds us that we do not need to rush, that there is still time for rest. It is the light of a single candle, not yet the full blaze of the sun.

This ancient festival marks the midpoint between the winter solstice and the spring equinox. It is a time of stirring, when the earth—though still frozen—begins to shift beneath the surface. It is the first glimmer of warmth on the horizon.

In Christianized Europe, this festival became Candlemas, a day when people brought their candles to church to be blessed. In Italy, it is La Candelora, a time when candles were seen as protection against lightning and illness. But the origins of the day are far older than Christianity, bound up in the rites of Brigid—the goddess of hearth and home, of smithcraft and poetry, of sacred wells and new beginnings.

Milk has long been sacred at this time, reflected in the possible Old Irish root of Imbolc—Oimelc, meaning “ewe’s milk.” It is the first nourishment of new life, a symbol of sustenance, protection, and the tender care that allows all things to flourish.

One way to honor Imbolc is to offer a small bowl of milk to the earth, a gesture of gratitude for the coming spring. Another is to sit quietly with seeds in your hands, filling them with your intentions before planting them in the weeks to come.

And, of course, there is food.

Imbolc is traditionally associated with dairy, particularly ewe’s milk, as this is the time when sheep begin to birth their lambs. Creamy soups, warm milk with honey, and fresh cheeses all echo the nourishment of the season.

by Jull111-Pixabay

The Animal Prophets of Groundhog Day

As February begins, we find ourselves at the threshold of a season both familiar and mysterious. The world is still cloaked in winter’s embrace, yet deep beneath the soil, the first stirrings of life have begun.

For our ancestors, the shifting of the seasons was not just a matter of the calendar but of deep, embodied knowing. They read the landscape as one might read a sacred text, looking at the movements of animals, the scent of the air, and the moisture in the soil. And in this time of waiting—when winter is waning, but spring has not yet taken hold—they turned to their wild neighbors for guidance.

Across Europe, people watched hibernating creatures for signs of the coming season-– the bear, the marmot, the hedgehog. In Germany, it was the badger, emerging from its den to sniff the air. Winter would linger if it returned to sleep; if it left its burrow, the land would soon warm.

by Andreas Strumpf- Pixabay

When German immigrants came to Pennsylvania, they found the groundhog—a creature well attuned to the rhythm of the land. And so, the old practice took root in new soil, transforming over time into Groundhog Day, a folk tradition that, despite its modern whimsy, holds echoes of ancient wisdom.

But there is more to this day than the groundhog’s shadow. The Pennsylvania Dutch celebrated a festival known as Entschtanning, meaning “emergence.” A twelve-day period of deep spiritual significance, marking the return of light and the thinning of the veil between worlds. In Urglaawe cosmology, the groundhog is akin to Ratatosk, the squirrel of Norse myth who runs up and down the World Tree, delivering messages between realms. His burrow, a complex warren of tunnels, mirrors the nine worlds of Yggdrasil.

By Katy_Heejin- Pixabay

In Scotland, the returning animal was a serpent. The old Gaelic verse tells us:

Thig an nathair as an toll
Là donn Brìde,
Ged robh trì troighean dhen t-sneachd
Air leac an làir.

“The serpent will come from the hole
On the brown Day of Bríde,
Though there should be three feet of snow
On the flat surface of the ground.”

These threads of folklore—burrowing beasts, hibernating serpents, the wisdom of the wild—speak to a truth our ancestors knew well: that nature, if we listen, will tell us what we need to know.

Dreaming with Bears

The bear has long been a symbol of deep dreaming, hibernation, and renewal. In many traditions, bears are teachers guiding us into the liminal space between death and rebirth. What does it mean to enter that space? What wisdom can be found in stillness?

I explore this in my article Dreaming with Bears—a meditation on the lessons of winter and the slow awakening of spring.

As we sit in this quiet threshold, may we take a moment to pause. To listen. To honor the old rhythms and the quiet magic of this in-between time. The world is stirring. The season is turning. And soon, soon, spring will be here.

by Roberto Campus

To celebrate, I’m sharing a special recipe from my Imbolc Seasonal Celebration Menu—
available to all Old Ways for Modern Days Library subscribers.

Warm Honey & Lavender Milk Toddy

A soothing, fragrant drink to honor the quiet magic of Imbolc.

Ingredients:
1 1/2 cups whole milk (or a mix of milk and cream)
1 teaspoon dried lavender
1–2 Tablespoons honey (to taste)
60ml brandy or whisky (optional)
Pinch of ground cinnamon
Pinch of ground nutmeg

Method:
1. Warm milk over low heat, steep lavender for 5–7 minutes
2. Strain, stir in honey, and add spirits if using.
3. Serve in a mug with a sprinkle of cinnamon and nutmeg.

A full menu of recipes can be found inside the Imbolc Seasonal Celebration Menu!

Imbolc & The Pagan Roots of Groundhog Day