February’s Literary Observances: Stories Meant to Be Loved, Told, and Passed On

February often gets labeled as the month of love—and while hearts and chocolates tend to steal the spotlight, there’s another kind of affection woven through this month as well: a love of stories.

This month’s literary observances invite us to return to the basics.

Libraries. Storytelling. Reading aloud. Passing books from one generation to the next.

They’re not about keeping up or checking boxes—they’re about remembering why stories mattered to us in the first place, and how they still shape our lives today.

Let’s take a quiet walk through February’s literary moments together.

Libraries have always been more than buildings filled with books. They’re safe havens. Gateways. Equalizers.

There’s something deeply comforting about stepping into a library—the hush, the shelves, the sense that knowledge and imagination are waiting patiently for you, no matter who you are or where you come from.

Libraries exist because someone believed stories should be accessible to everyone.

They ask nothing of us except respect—and maybe a library card.

Whether it’s your local branch, a university library, or a childhood favorite you still remember fondly, this month is a gentle reminder to appreciate these spaces that quietly support readers and writers alike.

Ways to honor it:

Sometimes love looks like simply showing up.

Children’s stories may look simple—but anyone who’s ever tried to write or illustrate one knows how much care they require.

The creators behind these stories shape first reading memories, early imagination, and a child’s understanding of the world.

Illustrators and authors don’t just tell stories—they build emotional landmarks that stay with readers for life.

As a children’s author myself, I’ve come to deeply appreciate the artistry and collaboration that goes into creating books for young readers.

It’s a privilege to work alongside illustrators who bring words to life in ways I never could alone.

Ways to celebrate:

The stories we meet early often walk with us longest.

(And to show my support for an illustrator of tremendous talent, I’d like to applaud that artistry of Natalie Adams.

(She’s been working with my friend on her first children’s series and will work with me on the future books in the Swallowtail Four series.

(If you find yourself in need of an illustrator, please look up Natalie. Your stories will thank you!)

Long before books, stories were voices around fires. They were songs, memories, and lessons passed from one person to another.

Storytelling isn’t limited to the page—it lives in audiobooks, oral traditions, performances, shared moments, and even in songs.

Even now, storytelling connects us in ways nothing else quite can. A story spoken aloud carries emotion differently. It invites listeners into a shared experience.

Simple ways to join in:

Stories are meant to travel—voice to voice, heart to heart.

Adventure stories have always held a special pull—especially those about survival, resilience, and self-discovery.

Robinson Crusoe represents one of literature’s earliest explorations of isolation and endurance, themes that still resonate today.

At their heart, these stories ask simple questions: Who are we when stripped of comfort? What do we carry with us when everything else is gone?

Ways to reflect:

Adventure isn’t just about danger—it’s about discovery.

Introducing children to libraries early plants seeds that can last a lifetime.

It’s not about creating perfect readers—it’s about making stories feel welcoming.

Even if you don’t have children of your own, this observance still matters.

Ways to participate:

Libraries don’t just hold books—they hold beginnings.

Reading aloud slows us down. It asks us to listen—not skim.

There’s intimacy in hearing words spoken, whether to a child, a partner, or even yourself.

It strengthens connection, improves comprehension, and reminds us that stories are living things.

Gentle ways to observe:

Sometimes the voice reveals what the page alone cannot.