A gentle welcome to spring and the quiet return of light

When I first began learning about paganism and witchcraft, I started with the Sabbats, or the Wheel of the Year. It felt like a natural foundation—an introduction to honoring the cycles of life and the changing seasons. I’ve always loved breaking up the monotony with small celebrations, finding simple reasons to make a day feel special. The Wheel of the Year spoke to me in that same way. A reminder that these days aren’t ordinary or mundane—they’re moments meant to be noticed, honored, and gently celebrated.

And I was immediately drawn to Ostara.

---

Like most kids, Christmas was my favorite growing up—mostly because of the presents. But there was always something quietly special about Easter. The warm spring breeze on a sunny morning, wearing a new dress my grandma made me, complete with a matching bonnet and gloves. Clutching a pastel basket while hunting for painted eggs tucked into flower beds and bushes. Then gathering for a big brunch filled with fresh, seasonal dishes and family all around.

There was a softness to it. A kind of lightness.

When I discovered Ostara years later, it felt like I had found that same magic again. That sense of renewal, warmth, and gentle joy. So many of the traditions I loved were rooted in this older celebration, and honoring the sabbat brought me back into alignment with the season in a deeper way. Now, out of all the celebrations in the Wheel of the Year, Ostara is one I truly look forward to—one I give just a little extra care to, even if it remains simple.

---

Each year, I prepare for Ostara by first reclaiming my sacred spaces. A deep physical and spiritual reset—spring cleaning, in its truest sense. I clear away the heaviness of winter and make room for something lighter.

Out go the deep greens and burgundies, and in come soft pastels—yellow, pink, lavender, and fresh spring green. I build a small altar with painted wooden eggs, fresh tulips in colorful vases, bright candles, and dried herbs. I open the windows, even against the last lingering chill, letting the air shift and carry out the stillness of winter. It feels like inviting in new ideas, new energy, new life.

---

Food is one of my favorite ways to connect with the Sabbats, and with the arrival of spring comes a flood of inspiration in the kitchen. I gravitate toward meals that feel light, fresh, and a little indulgent in the best way.

This year’s table was simple but abundant—cucumber sandwiches, a snack board of cheeses, fruits, vegetables, and honey, and homemade challah bread. We shared a mushroom, caramelized onion, and gruyère quiche alongside an arugula salad dressed in a bright lemon vinaigrette. And for something sweet, the first strawberries of the season layered into shortcake with homemade whipped cream.

A feast for the senses, and a quiet celebration of what’s returning.

---

As the day stretched on, we tended to the herbs and vegetables we started at Imbolc, played outside with our familiars in the warm sun, and settled onto the front porch with lemon mint water in hand. We talked, we dreamed, we simply were—watching the sun dip low and welcoming the season ahead.

I don’t think I could imagine a more gentle or meaningful way to welcome Ostara. Not as a grand transformation, but as a soft unfolding. A return to light, to growth, to something quietly beginning again.

---

🌿 How do you welcome spring?

I’d love to hear how you celebrate this time of year—whether it’s through traditions, food, time outside, or simply slowing down and noticing the shift in the season.

Leave a comment or share your own rituals. There’s something really special about seeing how differently we all welcome the light back in.

---

✨ However you’re moving into this season, I hope it feels gentle, hopeful, and entirely your own.