Here's Sparky's Nub News column as he asks: It's February 29 - can spring be far behind?

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'There is always in February one day, at least, when one smells the yet distant, but surely coming, summer'. Getrude Jekyll

'February is just plain malicious. It knows your defences are down'. Katherine Paterson

Well, it would appear that February is suffering from a degree of 'brand inconsistency', as my non-existent PR team might call it.

And where do you stand on this obviously important and divisive issue? Are you with the legendary gardener and patently optimistic Gertrude? Or do you side with the far gloomier realist and writer, Katherine?

Either way you'd be right, as it is ultimately a matter of opinion, no doubt guided by your own bias and past experience. However, I can't help feeling that old Gertie might just be getting a little ahead of herself here: I mean, can you sense summer already? From my own point of view summer is a season that is so far over the horizon it is hard to compute.

And being locked down under slate grey skies, hemmed-in by puddles the size of ponds and being denied the use of paths which now have the consistency of French onion soup doesn't help much either.

But hey, after my first article of the year- in which in a moment of obviously giddy optimism I had rebranded January 'The Gateway to Spring'- I do feel that I too should now demonstrate some of the previously mentioned brand consistency and try and get positive about February, too. After all, it is full of spiritual interest and it is the last of the winter months here in the northern hemisphere.

So, here goes…

As a result of various Roman emperors and other egotistical calendar plunderers stealing odd days here and there- here's looking at you, Augustus Caesar- February is our shortest month at exactly four weeks long. Except in leap years, of course, when it sprouts an extra day to balance things out.

But, on the bright side, if it is 'just plan malicious' as Katherine says, at least it doesn't have as long as the other months in which to do it. Not the most ringing of endorsements, I grant you, but it's a start and things do get better, I promise.

The name of the month is certainly Roman in origin, but historians can't agree on whether it is derived from a word meaning 'purification' or from the goddess, Februa, who is associated with cleansing rituals.

This theme of cleanliness and rebirth seems to live on in the modern world through those early new year trends of spring cleaning and soaring gym memberships. Worry not, however- this temporary righteousness, probably born of winter lethargy and over-indulgence- often evaporates as soon as people can get outside again.

And on this theme, the world outside your window is still getting steadily lighter and this unstoppable process is now gathering some momentum.

Over the month of January we gained an extra hour of daylight, but I am pleased to say that by the end of February we will be enjoying an extra two hours of sunlight per day: two hours! Now that has got to help in the purification of our souls. And it may well dry the paths out too.

Talking of souls, February has a healthy smattering of holy and auspicious days to keep us all busy, the most famous being that of St Valentine on the 14th, of course.

But away from matters of the heart, a couple of these days have customs relating to the weather, and the end of winter.

On the first of the month peasants would traditionally march across farmland with burning torches in an act of purification and to symbolise the strengthening sun. This, the Celtic festival of Imbolc, firmly celebrates the coming of spring.

As well as venerating the triple goddess, Brigid, there are other themes of fertility, hearth, home, the forge, healing and poetry.

To acknowledge this change of season, adherents make offerings of snowdrops and crosses woven from reeds. It is a time of rebirth and cleansing and marks the halfway point between the winter solstice and the spring equinox.

Imbolc is immediately followed by Candlemas on February 2nd, which also looks to the coming of warmer days and new life.

Marking 40 days since the birth of Jesus Christ it is another Christian festival that builds upon the traditions of earlier celebrations and it shares many similarities with its pagan calendar neighbour .

It too has associations with the gorgeous, early flowering snowdrop, which is sometimes known by its other name- the Candlemas Bell- for this very reason. I have seen many snowdrops on my wanderings this week and have enjoyed the sight of them before they are covered once again by a fresh layer of their meteorological namesake later this weekend.

But the thaw will be here soon enough, and we will see the snowdrops again before they hand their flowery baton over to the crocus and the daffodil. Then we really will be in spring.

The festivals of Imbolc and Candlemas have yet another custom in common, but this time it is almost contradictory.

If the weather on the day of Imbolc is foul, so tradition states, then winter is almost over; but if it is fair, then colder days are still to come.

On the other hand, if the weather on Candlemas is good, then this is a good omen and a sign of warmer, brighter days to follow: winter is nearly done.

Well, before you all tie yourselves up in knots trying to remember what the weather was like last Monday and Tuesday, let me remind you: on Monday, Imbolc was damp, chilly and misty but on Tuesday's Candlemas it was mainly sunny and fair, with temperatures rising to a heady 14C. On this basis, things are looking promising.

But no one has remembered to tell the weather though, with more snow and ice forecast for the next few days.

And finally, to Punxsutawney in western Pennsylvania, where on Candlemas day- 2nd February- crowds gather to see the emergence of a semi-mythical groundhog from its burrow following winter hibernation.

Legend states that if the confused rodent sees his shadow, suggesting clearer weather, he will retreat underground as he knows winter isn't done yet. But if no shadow is visible due to wintery gloom then spring will soon be here.

There are obvious similarities here with our European February traditions, which suggest a common and understandable desire by mankind to know exactly when winter is to give way to spring.

But forget the weather, for that furry forecaster- Punxsutawney Phil- sure is right about one thing: it's no fun to live through a Groundhog Day. Something I'm sure we all know too well in this, our first 'lockdown winter'.

It is a February message as old as time: brighter days are sure to follow. But not yet.