Plough Monday is one of those old English days that quietly holds the turning year together.. Traditionally, it’s the first Monday after Epiphany (6th January) the moment when the Twelve Days of Christmas are truly over, and rural life turns back toward the fields and the work of the year ahead.
A little history
In late medieval and early modern England, communities marked Plough Monday with a lively mixture of faith and folk custom. Parishes kept “plough lights” (candles) burning in church, and in many areas a decorated plough was pulled through the village as people collected money, originally to support the church and the community’s common life.
Different regions had their own flavour: groups sometimes known as Plough Boys (and other local names) would dress up, perform, and make a cheerful nuisance of themselves, part celebration, part fundraising, part “we’re all in this winter together.”
Why Plough Monday matters for us
Most of us aren’t heading out to yoke heavy horses at dawn, but we do know what it is to reach that point in January when the sparkle fades and real life returns.
Plough Monday offers a gentle way to re-enter the year without the often brittle pressure of “New Year, New You.” Its message is simpler:
- Start where you are.
- Put your hand to one honest thing.
- Trust that small faithfulness turns into a harvest.
For home-educating families, it’s also a beautiful reminder that learning doesn’t have to restart with a bang. It can restart like arable land: quietly, steadily, almost invisibly at first.
A simple Plough Monday practice
If you’d like to mark the day in a way that fits real life, here’s a small, meaningful rhythm:
1) Light a candle.
Whatever you have to hand. Nothing fancy.
2) A short prayer for the work of the year ahead.
Lord of seedtime and harvest,
bless the work of our hands,
the food that will be grown,
the people who labour,
and the small daily faithfulness of this home.
Turn the soil of our hearts toward what is good.
Amen.
3) Choose one “ploughing” action.
- Clear one surface in the kitchen.
- Wash the muddy wellies and set them ready by the door.
- Refill the bird feeder.
- Sort one drawer of pencils / paints / nature notebook supplies.
- Step outside and notice what January is already doing (buds, birds, frost, soil).
4) One sentence in your journal (or a family notebook):
- “The ground I’m tending this season is…”
- “The small work God is asking of me today is…”
- “The hope I am quietly planting is…”
A Plough Monday nature study invitation
If you’re out on a walk this week, look for signs of the land’s “not-yet.” January rarely looks impressive, but it is full of hidden beginnings.
Try noticing:
- field edges (hedgerows, seedheads, berries)
- tracks in mud, snow, or frost
- winter birds feeding low
- the feel of the soil: frozen, slick, resting, waiting
This is the kind of seeing that gently restores us, because it reminds us the year doesn’t begin with fireworks. It begins with the patient turning of the earth.
From my home to yours,
Thank you Lynn, love the ‘hidden beginnings’ of January. I love the winter!