Love is in the Air

Retirement Day #2422

Saturday February 14, 2026

1967: I’m sitting in on my bed, counting and assessing the various valentines from my classmates. I DK if they still do this in elementary school, but in 1967, it was a big deal to give valentines to all your classmates. We decorated shoeboxes with red hearts and lace, cutting slits in the tops to serve as convenient pseudo-mail slots in which our many admirers could deposit their [usually homemade] expressions of admiration [or passion, or disdain, or spit and vinegar…]. It was critical to receive as many valentines as you gave, which should equal the number of classmates. Do the math. Otherwise, it meant someone despised you enough to actually ignore you- which was the deepest cut of all. Being a frantic people pleaser, I always gave a valentine to every classmate. And I carefully counted what I received.

This particular Valentine’s Day, I paused in my counting to look out my window. It was snowing – and I suddenly realized that Valentine’s Day came in the Winter! For some reason I’d always associated it with spring. A lightbulb bloomed above my head – for the first time, I realized that holidays [even a minor one like Valentine’s Day] serve as seasonal markers. By Valentine’s Day, according to my mother, “Old Man Winter’s back was broken.” The sun would rise higher in the sky, and slowly, slyly, with teasing cunning, warmth would return.

The birds knew. My 9yr old self also noticed them – their morning songs began to gloriously greet the rising sun around Valentine’s Day, complex with decadent joy.

Chaucer noticed the birds, too:

"For this was on Seynt Valentynes day,Whan every foul cometh ther to chese his make."— The Parliament of Fowls, lines 309-310 [1382]

This is thought to be the first reference linking romance to Valentine’s Day. There seems to be 2 historical St. Valentines, although given how similar their stories are, it’s likely there was only one, who’s story played historical telephone. These guy/s were decapitated, and their bones ended up everywhere, still accomplishing miracles. Attempts to link their story to romance have had limited success - Christian martyr/s getting decapitated is tough to romance up. It’s far more likely that attention to the mid-February date is linked to the Roman festival of Lupercalia, also known as Lupercal: a pastoral festival of Ancient Rome observed annually on February 15 to purify Rome- which needed as much purifying as it could get. The festival promoted health and fertility [there’s the romance!]. Lupercalia was also known as dies Februatus, after the purification instruments called februa, the basis for the month named Februarius. The details are gory and weird. The timing of St. Valentine’s decapitation couldn’t have offered a better opportunity to appropriate this Roman festival for a Christian celebration, which is what happened in 496CE when the Gelasian Sacramentary [Pope Gelasius I] established the Feast of St. Valentine on February 14^th. As Chaucer noted, the whole “lovebirds” idea became popular in the 14^th-15^th medieval period, just in time for chivalry. And with that, St. Valentine’s Day became THE day for sweethearts [and sweetheart wannabes] to declare their passion. The cards and flowers of the 17^th and 18^th centuries gave way to the commercialization of the 19^th century and now – well, Hallmark should be grateful to Chaucer every day. [love that Wikipedia].

Chaucer. Birds. Fornicating in the trees. Nesting up and singing loud about it = the original Valentine’s Day.

Today, the sun is out, it’s almost 40 degrees, the snow is melting and birds are singing their hearts out for love, literally flying through the air, as they have every February 14^th for who knows how long. In other words: Love is in the air. I hope you may take a moment to listen – for the birds are the original cherubim, smiting any and all who are susceptible to the charms of winsome wing and song. 

May you be so smote.

Happy Valentine’s Day!