Spring celebrations and observances adapted from Welsh tradition enrich my polytheism as well as my connection with the Earth and the culture of several of my ancestors. This is how one American polytheist weaves some Welsh into the web of my practice.

Caught this little ent mid-stride running down the side of the mountain at Llyn y Fan Fach (2013).
I'm going to be bluntly honest (something I'm good at -- both to my benefit and my detriment). I've never really done much of especial observation for the beginning of February timeframe that many in the Pagan sphere observe as Imbolc/g (especially those in the Goidelic [Scottish, Irish, and Manx]-centered traditions).
I note the return of the lovely snowdrops with a warm smile and a nod, make candles if I need to, make this surprisingly delicious rosemary oat bannock recipe from Gather Victoria's blog, partially as a nod to the Scottish part of my heritage, and change out my top altar cloth to acknowledge the step closer towards Spring. (I have an underlying altar cloth that I only swap out for the solar seasons -- the equinoxes and solstices -- and a smaller top altar cloth that gets swapped out for more specific times of year.) I watch the cardinals and sparrows fly into my tiny backyard, light the fireplace, and cozy up with a hot cuppa because (if the accordion of climate change has not brought yet another abnormally super-warm week) it should be joint-achingly cold outside that time of year.
Aaaand... that's about it. I don't spend as much time outdoors in the teeth-chattering, bounce-inducing cold. I have yet to connect with Braint or Ffraid or Bride, and for now at least I more associate that time of year with Dwynwen, whose day falls nearby on 25 January. It's still a very liminal space in the year for me, fittingly full of potential, but I have not yet established a regular practice for this time of year.
But the Spring -- oh, the Spring is another story. The Spring is the bubbling forth of what was seething just beneath the surface at the time of snowdrops and candles. She brings Blodeuwedd -- the flower-faced owl of night and death omen (Owen, 1896; 400 & Trevelyan, 1909; 83-4) -- back to Her form as Blodeuedd, the spring flowers themselves in the growing radiance of day.
The Spring is yellow. She brings the bright yellow-gold blooms of broom and daffodils popping out like a highlighter against the drab grey landscape of bare branches and dormant grasses. She brings out the bag of yellow onion skins I've been saving from the onions I've cooked with all year to naturally dye the most gorgeous and deeply orange eggs with my son. She brings finding a lovely little cliff to chuck some of those eggs down from in gleeful destructive offering to the fiery yellow sunrise, to the Gods, to the land and its wildlife, and to the Spring Herself as they explode against the rocks below in bursts of yellow and white like the glint of the sun peeking over the horizon.

All-yellow and white-and-yellow daffodils blooming in late February in Maryland (2023).
The Spring is green. Full of budding leaves in that special hue of brightest green that is only so fresh and vibrant when they are first opening and have not yet baked beneath the searing rays of the summer sun. She brings the promise of peas and asparagus, of tender baby salad leaves and crisp radishes.
The Spring is both harsh and hopeful. Tantalizing and torturous. If we can but make it a bit longer, She is the first glimpse of light at the end of the tunnel that signals the coming end of Hirlwm -- the "long-bare" hungry gap. The time from February through May when food stores were running low (or, in a bad year, virtually empty), but the Spring was not yet far enough along to bring fresh produce to ease that strain. The time to gather eggs and hunt wild rabbits who'd just had their litters, those age-old symbols of fertility -- out of necessity.
As Wales has been a Christian country for the past 1500 years or so (at least among the elites; the greater populous may have had a much slower transition), the surviving record of traditions concerning this time of year are centered on the Christian Easter. It is impossible to know for certain if any of the customs that were still practiced late enough to be written about were ever the survivals of, or based in, pre-Christian Brythonic or Brythono-Roman Pagan customs. Regardless, it is what we have -- and happily, there is much that can be easily adapted to a Pagan, Earth-centered, and polytheistic set of values and worldviews to be found among the known Welsh traditions of this season.
Let us explore some of the Welsh traditions that illuminate this time of year from mid-March to mid-April, and I will share how I've adapted some of these into my own practice. Perhaps you, too, may find a seed to plant here.
Seeing the Sun Dance
In Wales, it was customary for people to "climb a hill on Easter morning" before the dawn -- not necessarily to hear a sermon, but "to see the sun dance" as it rose (Jones, 1930; 169). This custom is also attested in the works of Marie Trevelyan (1909; 248-9) and Trefor M. Owen (1968; 84). I do not know if this practice predates Christianity or not, and frankly I don't really care, because 1. it's lovely, 2. it's fun, 3. it's appropriate to the season and easily adaptable to a non-Christian, nature-centered practice, and 4. I was already doing it in a purely Pagan context anyway before I learned about these Welsh customs, so seeing that the Welsh did something similar just gave it all the more a comfortable and home-coming feeling. I never attended any "sunrise service" at Christian church for Easter, so getting up super early for the sunrise at the dawn of Spring has always been associated with Pagan practice, at least for me.
While I haven't trekked up to any summits for the purpose of seeing the sun "dance," per se, I have risen early on the morning of Spring Equinox to go to a high place and watch the sunrise ever since I was still a baby Pagan in 2008, long before I knew anything about Wales. It all began in Hawaii (I lived there at the time), on the island of O'ahu with some fellow Pagan friends. We would walk the trail up one of the more accessible and easily hiked mountains in Kolekole Pass. Reaching the summit and approaching the edge of a sheer drop from the side of the mountain (not too close!), we stood against the strong winds and faced the breathtaking view of the entire eastern side of the island and the great Pacific beyond its shores as the sun rose.
As she broke the horizon line, we would hail the sun and our Gods with gusto and hurl a select few of the naturally colored eggs we had prepared the day before down to their unseen destiny -- hopefully as some mountain-dwelling creature's breakfast. I have continued this tradition we started back then in Hawaii, even if all I could access for egg hurling was the edge of a deep creek, although I certainly prefer a mountain when it's feasible! And while the sun didn't necessarily "dance," we certainly did!
What people feel moved to do to celebrate our holidays varies widely, and even among shared traditions, everyone has their own little variations on them. If trekking to a high place to see the sun rise at the dawn of Spring sounds at all appealing to you (with or without egg hurling), I thoroughly recommend giving this a try -- it can be more fun, and more meaningful, than you might think.

A view of the sun near the horizon from a steep drop-off near the cottage I lived in while I was domiciled in Bangor, Wales (2015). Ynys Môn is visible on the other side of the Menai Strait.
Sundays of the Sons and of Peas
What could be a more Spring-time food than peas? The 3rd and 2nd Sundays before Easter were called "Dydd Sul y Meibion" (Sunday of the Sons) and "Dydd Sul y Pys/Gwrychon" (Sunday of the Peas), respectively.
On Sunday of the Sons, boys "took presents to their parents, especially to their mothers … and taking them 'a present of money, a trinket, or some nice eatable'," (Owen, 1968; 78-9). Why this association of the coming of Easter with thankfulness to mothers? There isn't much obvious reason for it in the Christian tradition that I'm aware of, but mothers' symbolic association with Spring as the bearers of new life seems pretty obvious for those of a Pagan or Earth-centered leaning. Therefore, perhaps you too may find value in celebrating something akin to Mother's Day at this time of year.
The Sunday of the Peas, not surprisingly, involved eating peas -- that staple of British cuisine! We are even given a small insight into how they were prepared: "peas that had been steeped overnight in water, milk, wine, cider and the like, then put to dry, and afterwards boiled for eating," were taken "to the top of Y Foel, a hill in the district [of Llansanffraid-ym-Mechain], to be eaten 'with very great ceremony' … [w]ater was also drunk on this occasion from a well on the hill," (Owen, 1968; 79). Many people have some familiarity with the significance of water and holy wells/springs/rivers across Celtic cultures, and the Welsh is no exception to this pattern.
Again it is unclear, other than a general association with Spring, why eating peas would have anything to do with Easter that would warrant their special treatment of being eaten atop a hill "with very great ceremony." Here again we see the climbing of a hill associated with the celebrations, this time combined with the eating of food symbolic of and particular to the season.
Associations with the sun and the season are fairly well represented already by the activities we've looked at so far, but wait -- there's more.
Dydd Sul y Blodau: Sunday of the Flowers
The Sunday before Easter, often referred to as "Palm Sunday" in English and which often lands beautifully close to Spring Equinox, saw the observance of many customs in Wales and was known as Dydd Sul y Blodau -- Sunday of the Flowers. It was customary on this day to wash and tend the graves of family and friends, decking them with fresh spring flowers and planting rue and rosemary around them (Jones, 1930; 169 & Owen, 1968; 80-2).
For the Christian, this tending and decorating of graves at this time of year was probably symbolically tied to the hope for resurrection through Christ. But I see this as potentially a valuable and deeply symbolic practice for the Pagan as well. For one, it is tied to the both literal and symbolic hope of the renewal of life that Spring brings, and so this hope can be meaningful to us for our beloved dead (indeed, this may be why the Christian Easter is celebrated at the time of year that it is, given we have no record of a specific date for Christ's death). Whether that be in the strictly materialist sense as the body transforms and feeds new life, or in a more spiritual sense as the spirit moves on to the appropriate afterlife and/or is reincarnated, the Spring represents the cycle of life continuing on beyond the state of death. It also mirrors the grave-tending practice that many Pagans already observe at or around Calan Gaeaf time ("Calends of Winter" -- Halloween/Samhain), giving the graves of our ancestors and beloved dead symbolically and seasonally significant visiting times twice annually.
Other practices and beliefs that align with Pagan values and worldviews were also associated with this day. Children born on Dydd Sul y Blodau "were more in the power of elves, fairies, and witches than on any other day," and it was considered unlucky to begin a new venture or to do anything that would disrupt the earth such as gardening, ploughing, or planting on this day (Trevelyan, 1909; 246-7). We see this prohibition against "disturbing" the earth reinforced by the following practice, also on Good Friday: "all business was suspended, no horse or cart to be seen in the town, and the people walked barefooted to church, that they might not 'disturb the earth'," (Owen, 1968; 82). This practice of walking barefoot, with the same reason given, is also attested in Jones (1930; 169).
I have no trouble what at all incorporating this one, as I have always hated socks and shoes and preferred to go barefoot as much as possible ever since childhood. I very much identified with the hobbits who preferred to get leathery soles and callouses over wearing shoes when I first read Tolkien back in elementary school. These sorts of beliefs and practices seem more aligned with honoring the land and spirits (and therefore seem to me more probable to be Pagan in origin, or at minimum much more seamlessly adapted into Pagan practice) than they are associated with Christianity.
Of course, for the polytheist, there is also the obvious (but unattested in folklore or folk practice to my knowledge) linguistic and seasonal association between Dydd Sul y Blodau and Blodeuedd. And the broom -- one of Her flowers -- is blooming up a storm, as we say, around this time of year. How very convenient.

Welsh mountains from the road as we drove by in the Spring of 2013.
Eggs, Lamb, and Hot Cross Buns?
Of course, this was an occasion worthy of feasting for (if there was food to be had). On Good Friday, it was common to eat hot cross buns. If what I encountered for sale around that time of year in Morrisons and Tesco and Asda and Lidl and Waitrose and every other grocery or bakery was any indication, eating hot cross buns around Easter time is still common in Wales to this day. In addition, "[e]ven ye poorest family" would celebrate Easter with eggs and lamb or kid [young goat] (Owen, 1968; 85-6). So, if you're looking for a Welsh-inspired menu for a Spring Equinox feast, lamb or goat, eggs, peas, and hot cross buns sound like just the thing!
After all,
"...the egg had a symbolical significance which was peculiarly appropriate to Easter. From the earliest times the egg has been the emblem of fertility and particularly of the regeneration of life. To the pagan the reawakening of plant and animal life in spring was epitomized by the egg, the lifeless shell which contained the germ of new life."
--from Welsh Folk Customs, Trefor M. Owen (1968), pages 86-7.
Indeed, magical Trefor, indeed. (How's that for an old internet reference?)
"Okay," you may be thinking, "Eggs and lamb, I get -- but hot cross buns? Aren't we dipping a little too far into the obviously Christian here? I mean, they're hot cross buns!" (Or maybe you're not thinking that at all; I dunno!) But hear me out. I didn't grow up with hot cross buns, and I have no nostalgia (nor trauma) tied to them, so it's not like I'm suggesting it just for the warm fuzzy childhood memories (although that would be reason enough, in my personal opinion).
Our friend magical Trefor has pointed out "These [hot cross buns] were thought to have a curative power and a number of them were tied in a bag and hung up in the kitchen... It was believed that a portion of such a bun, when eaten, could cure any disease; the buns were also given to domestic animals to cure diseases," (Owen, 1968; p. 83). If some Christian-era folk magic isn't much of a motivator, there is also this to consider: "it is interesting to find that two petrified loaves, five inches in diameter, were found at Herculaneum both marked with a cross. Disaster overtook Herculaneum in A.D. 79 and it is unlikely that the loaves were made for a Christian. It has been suggested that wheaten cakes marked with a cross may have been eaten at the Spring Festival in pre-Christian times before the Gospel suggested another meaning," (Owen, 1968; 83).
If hot cross buns (or something similar) were good enough for pre-Christian Britons in the year 79 when Christianity barely even existed, I reckon they're good enough for me, so onto my Spring Equinox feast spread they have been added! The equal-armed cross was a solar symbol way before Christianity came to Europe, so I don't have much trouble incorporating that. Or maybe they just thought it would look nice to cut a cross shape into their little buns a really long time ago. It's not like every loaf of bread with an X in it is full of religious symbolism. Ultimately, who knows? But they're tasty anyway, and why try to reinvent the wheel when we can look to what our ancestors did?
A Spring Feast
If the idea of a Spring feast featuring traditional Welsh foods of the season interests you, here are the recipes I use. Or use your favorites! (I have no affiliation with the following websites or their owners; they're just the recipes I myself like to use.)
This Roast Leg of Lamb recipe from Damn Delicious is, well, damn delicious: https://damndelicious.net/2019/04/06/roasted-leg-of-lamb/
For eggs, why not put some of those extra boiled eggs that might be lying around this time of year (especially if you like to do an equinox egg hunt for kids) into this traditional Welsh dish? (Also a great way to use up leftover mashed potatoes!)
Ŵyau Ynys Môn (Anglesey Eggs):
I use this Minty Peas recipe just straight from the BBC:
Personally, I like to have a salad to brighten up the feast and get some more veg in me, and I find this one from Bwyd Cymru Bodnant (Bodnant Welsh Food in the Conwy Valley) goes splendidly with the lamb: https://www.bodnant-welshfood.co.uk/post/beetroot-halloumi-orange-buckwheat-salad
Last but not least, here is the very popular Hot Cross Buns recipe from Recipe Tin Eats:
Gwawr Gwanwyn
Between climbing a hill, mountain, or other high-elevation spot to watch the sun rise (and/or maybe to eat some peas and toss some eggs!), honoring our mothers, tending the graves of our beloved dead and decking them with spring flowers, contemplating the birth and rebirth portions of the life, death, and (re)birth cycles, walking barefoot "so as not to disturb the earth," and feasting, I hope this post may have given you some ideas to welcome the new life and longer days of Spring, enriched by some of the lovely customs of Cymru. May they live long and prosper.
Bendithion Gwanwyn!
Sources
BBC (2021). Smashed minted peas. Good Food. Derived from: https://www.bbcgoodfood.com/recipes/smashed-minted-peas
Chungah (2019). Roasted leg of lamb. Damn Delicious: Quick and Easy Meals for the Home Cook. Derived from: https://damndelicious.net/2019/04/06/roasted-leg-of-lamb/
"Hirlwm." Geiriadur Prifysgol Cymru. Derived from: https://welsh-dictionary.ac.uk/gpc/gpc.html
Jones, T. Gwynn (1930/2020). Welsh Folklore and Folk Custom. Cockatrice Books.
Nagi (2020). Hot Cross Buns Recipe. Recipe Tin Eats. Derived from: https://www.recipetineats.com/hot-cross-buns-recipe/
Olson, Danielle Prohom (2018). Rosemary oat bannock for Imbolg. Gather Victoria: Ancestral Food. Herbal Wisdom. Magical Cookery. Seasonal Celebration. Derived from: https://gathervictoria.com/2018/01/15/rosemary-oat-bannock-for-imbolc/
Owen, Elias. (1896/2020). Welsh Folklore: A Collection of the Folk Tales and Legends of North Wales. Cockatrice Books.
Owen, Trefor M. (1968). Welsh Folk Customs. National Museum of Wales: Welsh Folk Museum, Cardiff. J.D. Lewis and Sons, Ltd., Gomerian Press, Llandysul.
Starling, Mhara (2022). Dydd Santes Dwynwen | The Lore of Dwynwen, Wales' Patron Saint of Lovers, and her feast. Derived from: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d-ThYo2hVVs
Susan (2021). Anglesey eggs or wyau Ynys Môn. Daffodil Kitchen. http://www.daffodilkitchen.com/anglesey-eggs-or-wyau-ynys-mon/
Trevelyan, Marie (1909). Folk Lore and Folk Stories of Wales. Elliot Stock, London.
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