February Full Moon - The Snow Moon

February’s full moon (1st February 2026) arrives at Imbolc, a liminal moment. Winter is still very much here, and yet something has begun to shift. The days are lengthening, almost imperceptibly. The soil is no longer entirely dormant. Snowdrops push their way through cold ground, not because conditions are perfect, but because the time has come. This moon is known by several names, drawn from different cultures and seasonal observations. Each one reflects a slightly different way of understanding this turning point between winter and spring.

Snow Moon

This is the most commonly used name. February is often the coldest, snowiest month in the northern hemisphere, and this name speaks plainly to the depth of winter that still surrounds us, even as change begins underneath.

Hunger Moon

This name comes from the reality of late winter scarcity. Food stores were often running low, hunting was difficult, and the gap between what was needed and what was available could feel acute. Spiritually, it also speaks to longing, patience, and endurance.

Storm Moon

Used in some traditions, this name reflects February’s volatile weather. Storms, wind, and sudden changes remind us that transition is rarely gentle or predictable.

Ice Moon

In some European folk traditions, February’s moon was associated with frozen ground and waterways. It carries a sense of stillness and containment, holding life in suspension.

Imbolc Moon

In modern pagan and earth-based traditions, this full moon is often linked with Imbolc. This name connects the moon to the return of light, the hearth fire, and the first stirrings of renewal, even while winter remains present.

What I love about these names is that none of them rush the season. They acknowledge both realities at once. The cold and the coming warmth. The hunger and the hope. The holding and the stirring.

I experience this moon as a threshold between holding and emerging.

Where the Wolf Moon asked us to listen in the dark, this moon asks a slightly different question. What is beginning to warm? What is asking to be tended? What small flame is ready to be protected?

In yoga philosophy, this moment aligns beautifully with the subtle movement from tamas towards rajas. We are not leaping into action yet, but we may notice more energy in the system. A flicker of restlessness. A gentle curiosity. A sense that something wants to move, even if it does not yet know how.

Brigid - the goddess of Imbolc

Imbolc is traditionally associated with fire and with light. Not the blazing fire of summer, but the hearth fire. The kind that keeps us warm and allows life to continue. This is not about burning everything down or making dramatic changes. It is about tending what matters.

Yoga teaches us that transformation is rarely sudden. It happens through steady attention. Through showing up again and again with care. The niyama tapas is often translated as discipline or effort, but at this time of year, I think of it more as devotion. The willingness to keep the flame alive through small, consistent acts.

This full moon invites a gentle honesty. Not the stripping back of winter, but the careful noticing of what has survived it.

I find myself asking different questions now.

What feels a little more alive than it did a few weeks ago?

What am I quietly curious about?

What wants encouragement rather than pressure?

In the body, this can be sensed as subtle shifts. A desire to stretch a little deeper. To spend more time in the light. To reconnect with practices that may have softened or thinned during winter. Yoga meets this moment not by demanding intensity, but by supporting gradual awakening.

This moon reminds us that beginnings do not have to be bold to be meaningful. They can be tentative. Fragile. Still wrapped in uncertainty. Yoga invites us to meet these early stirrings with kindness, creating conditions where they can grow rather than pushing them to prove themselves.

This is a moon for tending intentions rather than setting goals. For noticing where warmth is returning. For protecting what feels precious.

If the Wolf Moon was about listening to the call in the dark, this moon is about responding gently. About saying, I hear you. I am paying attention. I will move when the time is right.

And perhaps that is the deepest teaching of the Imbolc Moon. That growth begins long before it is visible. That light returns not all at once, but in quiet increments. And that our practice, like the season, unfolds best when it is rooted in patience, care, and trust.