I don't think so, given that the temperature this morning was a decidedly non-balmy 19 degrees, and the snow from earlier this week has not melted. According to Punxsatawny Phil the weather rodent, we will have six more weeks of winter, but to the ancient Irish, February 1 and/or 2 marked the beginning of spring. (Hey, calendars have been revised over the years.)
Having just checked the weather in the parts of Ireland where various ancestors lived, I see that it is warmer there than here this week with lows generally in the forties, weather that could perhaps charitably be interpreted as springlike. The dating of spring to early February seems to be related to the reproductive cycles of the sheep that were of such economic importance, providing wool, meat, and milk to the inhabitants of the island. The earliest lambs are born about now, and the ewes begin to lactate. Imbolc, as the day was known, was celebrated with foods made with milk, cheese, or butter (a tradition I can definitely manage). Pancakes with blackberry jam were also traditional (and probably not happening at my house, though I do need to use up some sour milk, and wonder if blueberries might do. . . ).
People being unlikely to give up their celebrations, Feb. 2 became a Christian holiday honoring St. Patrick's friend St. Brigid, who may or may not have been the same as the ancient Celtic goddess. (And since she was a protector of the people and associated with poetry and learning, and Patrick seems to have had good intentions, I can almost imagine them collaborating.) The ancient practices continued, and a few more got added, such as collecting alms for the poor.
This year, the Republic of Ireland has made Imbolc/St. Brigid's Day a national public holiday, the first named after a woman. Celebrations there include music by Irish women, since Brigid was a patron of the arts.
Listening to Irish music and eating pancakes with butter--much more my kind of celebration than heading to a lambing shed in the middle of the night.
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