Thinking about pagan holidays and tomatoes

What are you grateful to your past selves for doing (or not doing)?

This weekend, I opened a can of tomatoes to make cream of tomato soup. “These tomatoes are cut up into pretty big pieces,” I thought to myself. And then I remembered, “Right, because you’re the one who cut them up. You only have yourself to blame.”

They were a jar of whole tomatoes I put up last summer, late in August, probably, when it was still hot and plants in the garden were already starting to wither a bit from the heat and lack of rain. Every year at that time, the effort to do a canner of tomatoes feels like too much. The kitchen is hot and my back hurts and there’s always the tension of whether or not I’ll have enough tomatoes to fill a whole canner.¹ But then in January, I’m always grateful. As I stirred the tomatoes into the soup, I greeted them like old friends and, of course, they tasted delicious.

It got me thinking about gratitude toward past versions of ourselves. I’m also feeling grateful to past Robyn who resisted the urge to switch readings for my classes this semester once again, which makes my job in the right now so much easier. I’m always grateful to the past version of myself who decided to put the words on the page, even when they felt like the worse words ever summoned by a living human being. Even when it felt like each word was being tortured out of me. Those words are usually much better than I thought they were and always, always better than no words at all. I’m so, so grateful to me in the past who decided to write down that idea, rather than waiting until later, because at my age, in the later, the idea is gone.

What are you grateful to your past self for doing (or not doing)?

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I listened to a podcast interview with Katherine May, who wrote a book on wintering. She has many good and interesting things to say, but one that especially stuck out to me was the sensibility of the pagan calendar. In that system for keeping time, there’s a holiday or festival every six weeks. The winter solstice (effectively Christmas in the Christian calendar) and spring equinox (Easter), but in between, Imbolc.

Yes, Imbolc. A celebration of the beginning of spring, which makes much more sense to do now than to wait until March. If you’re paying close attention, you can see spring gearing up—catch flashes of her waiting in the wings, all sparkly and purple. Have you noticed the green stems of the daffodils poking out of the ground? Or the redness on some of the trees which signals their buds making that first step toward a bloom? Do you look outside your window at 5:30 and think to yourself, “Hey, it’s still light.”? I saw today there are irises blooming in Paris. Is there any better sign of winter’s waning than that?

Irises in Paris!

Spring is on its way, which is such an important thing to remember in early February. Imbolc comes on February 4 and it’s celebrated by noticing signs of spring, but also by cleaning and organizing your house and making Brigid’s crosses with rushes. I have no idea how to get rushes in southern Indiana (do we have rushes? Are they alive in February?), but I will not be discouraged. I will be celebrating Imbolc and all the pagan holidays from here on out.

How are you getting through the wintering?

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Thanks for all the comments on last week’s post! I should have gotten tarot readings to everyone who wanted one. If you didn’t get yours, let me know.

Thanks as always for reading and liking and commenting and sharing! You’re the best!

1. Nothing horrible happens if you can’t fill all 7 quart jars in a canner, it’s just one of those things that feels like a deep, personal failing.