
Reflective February nature journaling exploring Solmōnaþ, Imbolc, snowdrops, birdsong, and the quiet return of light in the UK countryside.
This February has been a month of rain. On my walks, the paths are blocked with huge puddles, impassable in places - the fields are saturated, and my boots sink deep into the mud as I step along the muddy pathways.
The rain never seems to stop. My face and glasses feel permanently wet when I’m outside, and even at midday the days seem dark, as though the clouds have forgotten how to lift.
So my February nature journal has been shaped by rain, mud, and the slow return of light...
Bright buds of hope in a sea of mud!
February was once known as Solmōnaþ - in Old English, the 'month of mud' (an alternative translation is 'month of cakes') - a name that feels especially fitting in this February nature journal.
In Somerset’s Quantock Hills, they are celebrating this ancient name with a modern Month of Mud festival - muddy hikes, art created from natural mud pigments, and a renewed appreciation for how mud supports insects, birds, and plant life.
Star of hope emerging from the mud!At home, in my garden, I find small brown globes nestled low in the soil - the Common Earth Star fungus. It feels like the perfect emblem for this sodden season - as if the ground itself is quietly turning towards the light, a small star rising from the mud. A reminder that even in the heaviest earth, something luminous is unfolding.
And yet February is not only mud. It is a threshold month - poised between winter and spring - as the light begins its slow return.
At the very beginning of the month we have:
There is something tender in these observances - milk, flame, renewal.
These early spring festivals mark the turning point between winter and the first stirrings of the growing year.
'Lamb's Tails'We feel echoes of Imbolc in the hazel trees, their catkins - so often called 'lamb’s tails' - bouncing softly in the damp air.
Snowdrops - one of their common names in 'Milk Flower' echoing the 'ewe's milk' of Imbolc
Early CrocusSnowdrops, sometimes known as 'milk flowers', push bravely through the soaked soil. Crocus follow close behind. Hellebores bow their heads like quiet lanterns in the rain - the Lenten Rose, flowering in the weeks before Easter.
Hellebore flowers - the 'Lenten Rose'These early spring flowers in the UK countryside feel like small promises against the mud-dark ground.
Even in the mud, milk-white petals and early gold are appearing.
As the month progresses, colour begins to shift almost imperceptibly - from brown to green.
HeatherIn the garden, the heather flowers - gentle cream blooms standing out against the deep green of her tiny leaves.
Fresh green elder leavesIn the hedgerows, I notice the fresh green leaves of elder budding courageously in the shelter of an old oak. These small, almost secret signs of growth bring hope - proof that warmth and light are already stirring, even when they still feel invisible.
One of my favourite February nature journaling practices is recording the return of birdsong.
Though the land remains muddy, the lengthening light awakens another kind of change. The hedgerows have begun to rehearse for spring…
The Song Thrush is singingA song thrush calls from the top of a tall hawthorn in the early mornings, repeating his clear, measured phrases.
Robin
DunnockThe dunnock sings sweetly, accompanied by the robin - our garden robins already paired and preparing for the breeding season.
Chaffinch in song!
Greenfinches are chattering in the hedgerowsFor the first time in months, I hear the chaffinch’s song again, while dozens of greenfinches chatter busily in the hedgerows.
Skylarks flying high with their bubbling songOut in the fields, skylarks rise impossibly high, their bubbling song often the soundtrack to my entire walk.
Curlews calling overheadAbove my cottage, I hear the distinctive, haunting call of the curlew. Looking up, I see a small flock wheeling across the sky. I find myself wondering where they are travelling.
Little Egret in a flooded field - nature journaling in FebruaryAnd in a flooded field, a Little Egret stands still and pale - a quiet figure against the dark water.
The mud says winter...
The birds say otherwise.
February is a month of mud - darkness concealing hidden growth.
It is a month of milk - nourishment, fertility, promise.
It is a month of light - the steady return of the sun as we cross the threshold into spring.
And it is a month of song - as birds announce what the earth already knows.
Perhaps February is not a contradiction of dark and light at all, but a conversation between mud and milk.
If your days feel heavy right now, you are in good company with the fields and hedgerows.
Beneath the mud, things are stirring... Beneath the grey, the light is lengthening.
February is not late winter... It is early 'becoming'...
If you’re keeping a nature journal this month, you might like to explore:
You don’t need to answer all of them. Just choose one...
Step outside - or look out of your window - and begin.
If my February nature journaling in this month of mud and milk has inspired you to notice more closely, you might enjoy exploring my Nature Journaling section, where I share seasonal reflections and pages from my own journal.
If you’re just beginning, you’re warmly welcome to download my free guide, Getting Started with Your First Nature Journal - a gentle introduction to help you begin without pressure.
And if you’d like more structure and step-by-step inspiration, my 20-lesson course Imperfect Nature Journaling is there whenever you’re ready to go deeper.
If you've enjoyed the folklore elements of this page, you might enjoy exploring my Folklore Hub.
More February? If you'd like to explore more February nature journaling, you can take a peek inside last year's February nature journal, here...
Downloadable PDF nature journaling course - 120+ pages, 20 exercisesIf you'd like to explore nature journaling more, please consider joining me for my 'Imperfect Nature Journaling' online course - I've called it this to remind us to nature journal for the process of connecting with nature to feel good and not to put pressure on ourselves to create pretty pages which can quickly ruin the fun and the benefits...
It's a series of 20 lessons (in downloadable PDF format) which are great exercises that you can do in your own nature journal to help you try out different ideas and techniques.
This will help you get the most out of your nature journaling sessions and understand what style of nature journaling is the best for you personally.
If this sounds like something you might like, you can find out more about the course here...
Each month, I share stories from my own nature journal, new art from my studio, and simple seasonal inspiration to help you feel more connected with the turning year - if you'd like to stay updated, please sign up with your email address below...
Feb 24, 26 05:35 AM
Feb 23, 26 06:37 AM
Feb 23, 26 06:35 AM
Find my stockists for all my earlier artworks here...
Follow me:
Share this page: