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 "It is the Washin' o' the World's Face."

(R. García y Robertson, The Spiral Dance)

Our story so far: The Chinese have invaded America and then (for reasons never specified) pulled out again. The East Coast literally walls itself off from the rest of the Continent and becomes a stuck-in-the-head techno-megalopolis.

Meanwhile, the rest of the Continent reverts to tribalism. Foremost among these tribes are the Latter-Day Witches who call themselves "Circle", or "Coven", who through centuries of inbreeding have achieved mastery of the art of direct mind-to-mind communication, what they call lep.

(If you suspect that this has something to do with telepathy, I think you're probably right.)

That's the universe of Marvin Kaye and Parke Godwin's Masters of Solitude series, some of the earliest (late 70s/early 80s) popular literature to be profoundly shaped by the emerging Wiccan movement.

Being, in effect, our children, the people of Circle observe the same Wheel of the Year that we do today. Part of the fun of the novels for pagans lies in extricating the names of the firedays from what 1000 years' worth of linguistic erosion have left of them.

For Circle folk, Eostre/Ostara/Easter is Leddy. (I myself can remember back when, in the early days of American paganism, some folks knew Spring Equinox as Lady Day.) Then comes Belten, Sinjin (< “Saint John['s Day]"), Lams, Milemas ( < Michaelmas), Samman, and Loomin for Yule. (I'm guessing that this latter is probably a worn-down form of illumine, drawn perhaps from Doreen Valiente's quintessential Yule chant Queen of the Moon, Queen of the Sun: "Golden Sun of the Mountains,/Illumine the Land, Light up the World,/Illumine the Seas and the Rivers,/Sorrows be laid, Joy to the World." If so, it's a nicely folkloric touch.)

Their Imbolg/Oimelc/Candlemas is Grannog.

Winter's halfway over. In my book, that means: holiday.

Whatever you call it.

Imbolc (various spellings).What, you didn't grow up speaking Irish?

Despite what you've heard, Imbolc probably doesn't mean “In the Belly” (which, when you think about it, is a pretty stupid name for a holiday anyway). What does it mean then?

Nobody knows. Possibly it's a pre-Keltic name. Anyway, it's exotic (pagans like that) and really, really old.

Oimelc (various spellings). What, you didn't grow up speaking Scots Gaelic?

Despite what you've heard, Oimelc probably doesn't mean “Ewe's Milk.” Yes, it's lambing time, and yes, our much-diminished larders are (gratefully) being replenished by a welcome freshet of new milk right now. But “Ewe's Milk” is probably best regarded as folk etymology.

What does it mean then?

Nobody knows. Possibly it's a pre-Keltic name. Anyway, it's exotic (pagans like that) and really, really old.

Candlemas. This is how they name the holiday in Cowan. (That telltale -mas on the end gives it away every time.) Some Old Craft purists, who wouldn't be caught dead using a neo-peg name like Imbolc or Oimelc, still call it this: a habit of protective coloration left over from the Bad Old Days, I guess.

Well, la-de-da-da.

Many heathen sects celebrate some version of Groundhog Day and Easter.

The 12 days of Entschtanning in the Urglaawe tradition (Pennsylvania Deitsch) run from the 1st to the 12th of February. On the 1st of February, German Reconstructionists in the USA celebrate Idisi Segen.

February 2nd is Groundhog Day, Charming of the Plough, Idis-thing, Disting, and Barri to different groups among American Asatru. It's also Candlemas (English), Lichtmess (Austria, Germany, Switzerland), and Lichtmesdag (Luxembourg.)

Some American Asatruars have invented a holiday to be celebrated while mainstream American culture is celebrating Valentine's Day on Feb. 14th. This holiday is variously called Vali's Day, Freya's Day, or just the Fourteenth of February (similar to the custom in Denmark where it is called Fjortende Februar rather than St. Valentine's.)

Our religion is a danced religion, and right now it's time to stomp.

The ground is frozen, so we dance our stomp-dances for sleeping Earth and the sleeping animals and the sleeping seeds.

Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!

The stomp-dances begin now and continue while the ground is frozen.

Come thaw, of course, you don't stomp any more. That work will already have been done, that magic made.

No, then we'll start spring's leaping dances. The higher we leap, the higher they grow.

Grow! Grow! Grow!

So this morning, the groundhog said we're going to have an early Spring. Later today, I heard claps of thunder for the first time in months, and the rain washed away all of the salt on my SUV. I started with a new agency a couple weeks ago, and I am now designated as "pre-license", as I am studying to move forward as a real estate broker. Ron even got me a new phone as a congratulations present - just the one I wanted but was holding off until I made more money. (I closed on my first lease with the new company yesterday!)

It has indeed been a whirlwind of preparation and change, which is just how I see the season. All year long, animals like squirrels store up food to get them by through the winter. By the time Winter arrives, a squirrel who did a great job will have the problem of too much of a good thing. They will bury nuts all over the forest, forgetting where many of them are buried. The following Spring, that mistake can become a blessing in disguise - planting unintentional seeds. Preparation and change. I hadn't planned on switching agencies as quickly as I did, but it was time to do so. The groundhog didn't plan on anything other than waking up this morning. El Niño is probably attributing to lots of change, including the storms around here instead of a blizzard. And yes, for people who pay attention to politics, a relatively no-name did a great job in Iowa. (Disclaimer: I am not much into politics, but that doesn't mean I don't pay attention.)

The thing is, the world is in a constant state of change. Some changes are subtle, like the first tiny knobs on a tree branch. Some changes are wildly noticeable, such as the first morning you step outside and see green grass everywhere after months of brown and white. How I handle the changes, big and small, determines where my life will go. It's certainly easier for me to adapt than it is for someone who's starting from nothing, or someone who has more hurdles. I just remind myself I know people personally who were given every opportunity, but because they were not able to adapt to change, they have problems I have a hard time envisioning for myself

Minneapolis, Groundhog's Day 2016. It's a snow sky, sunless and white: there's a big blizzard coming.

Thank Goddess.

If you've ever wandered where the song-and-dance routine about the groundhog and his shadow comes from, it's a naturalized American version of some old European folk meteorology.

February 2 marks the mid-point of winter, and supposedly the hibernating animals come out of their hibernacula to reconnoiter. No groundhogs in Europe, so other animals do the job: bears, marmots, hedgehogs.

Traditional weather lore has lots of examples of days whose weather is said to portend what's coming. “If it's sunny on St. Whoozit's Day, the Sun will shine for the next 40 days.” Interestingly, Candlemas Day is the lone example when bad—cloudy—weather portends good weather coming. A cloudy Candlemas predicts only 6 more weeks of winter. (Which brings us, roughly, to the Equinox.) If it's sunny and clear instead, winter will last longer.