About Alexandra Heep:

Alexandra Heep is a longtime writer, chronic over-thinker, and recovering content mill survivor. Her work has appeared in literary journals, anthologies, and online platforms where words are still respected. She writes children’s books, health reflections, and the occasional blog post laced with humor and hard-won honesty. After years of illness, detours, and navigating the noise of modern wellness, she returned to writing with the firm belief that stories—like people—don’t have to be perfect to matter. She publishes under multiple pen names and drinks more goat milk than you’d expect.

Monday, February 2, 2026

Yup, It's Still Winter



Yes, the picture is of a hedgehog, but everyone knows, that today, February 2, is Groundhog Day. Yes, that annual moment when we pretend a weather forecast requires a furry middleman, a top hat, and a crowd at dawn. A groundhog is yanked from its burrow, stares into the existential abyss (also known as Pennsylvania), and somehow this becomes a binding meteorological decree.

Let me simplify the ritual, free of folklore and pageantry:
If the sun is out, winter continues. If the sun is not out, winter also continues.
There. Forecast complete. No rodents harmed. No suspense music required.

What fascinates me most isn’t the superstition—it’s the commitment. We livestream this. We interview officials. We hold press conferences. Somewhere,  actual meteorologists are sipping coffee, quietly wondering why their degree didn’t come with a whistle and a sash.

And yet—here’s the real tell—we don’t do this with hedgehogs.

Today is also Hedgehog Day, which passes with blissful sanity. No crowds. No predictions. No forced awakenings. Hedgehogs are left alone to do what winter-wise creatures do best: mind their business. Curl up. Conserve energy. Ignore humans entirely. An elite strategy, frankly.

Imagine the alternative:

“Breaking news: Harold the Hedgehog has not seen his shadow because he refused to come outside, and honestly, same.”

Hedgehogs understand winter. They don’t forecast it. They endure it. Quietly. Efficiently. With boundaries.

Groundhog Day, on the other hand, feels like the weather equivalent of shaking a Magic 8 Ball and acting shocked by the answer. It’s not that it’s wrong—it’s that it’s unnecessary. We already know winter lingers. Our joints know. Our heating bills know. The sky at 4:45 p.m. definitely knows.

So today, I propose a modern update:

  • Look outside.

  • Note the temperature.

  • Accept reality.

  • Let small animals sleep.

Celebrate Hedgehog Day instead. No predictions. No theatrics. Just a gentle nod to creatures who understand that winter is not a performance—it’s a season you get through by staying warm and not being dragged into nonsense before sunrise.

If that’s not wisdom, I don’t know what is. 🦔❄️



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