Wintering

It’s midwinter, and now that the holiday rush has faded, politics withstanding, the world feels quieter—like it’s holding its breath, waiting. The animals I’m used to seeing on my walks are nowhere to be found. They’re tucked away, curled up in burrows or nests, venturing out only for the essentials. No bees hum, no bats flit, no groundhogs scurry. And honestly, I’m jealous.

Hibernation seems like the most natural thing to do during these dark, cold months, doesn’t it? Yet, how many of us are truly in a position to honor that instinct? Life keeps moving, and we’re expected to keep pace. But over the years, I’ve learned that if I don’t carve out time for extra rest and care during the winter, I pay the price.

It was on our little farm that I truly began to understand the rhythm of the seasons. Watching the animals taught me so much. They were rested, and I was not. I’d spend winter days feeling utterly depleted, dragging myself through the motions, and it took me years to figure out why. I was cold. I was hungry. And I was exhausted from trying to keep the same energy I’d had in spring, summer, and even autumn. I worked in retail at the time, where the seasons never made sense. Christmas in July, anyone? No, thank you.

Winter isn’t meant to be a time of endless productivity. It’s a season of slowing down, of replenishment. What we really need right now are the things that nourish our bodies and souls—naps, soups, and steaming mugs of tea. We need to go to bed early, not because we’re tired, but because it’s restorative to curl up with a good book or cuddle with a loved one. We need herbal foot baths to soothe our winter-weary feet, milk baths to soften our skin, and yoga or stretches to wake our muscles gently.

We need to step outside, bundle up against the chill, and remember that the sun is still shining above the clouds. Build a snowman, make snow angels, or have a bonfire with a warm drink in hand. Play in the snow like you once did as a child, or take a slow walk through the woods and let the trees remind you to breathe. Winter invites us to rest—not just physically, but mentally. Quiet the brain with a simple meditation or a good nap and every so often if you can, spend an entire day in your coziest pajamas, doing nothing at all.

Wintering isn’t about surviving; it’s about softening. It’s a gentle pause in the cycle of the year, a chance to replenish what’s been used up so you’re ready to bloom again come spring. Let yourself slow down. The world will wait.

With Affection Always,

Beth