Hi, friend.
We are now in the long slog of winter, the deepest part of the season. Here in the frozen (but not as frozen as it used to be) north, if you watch nature and the seasons as obsessively as I do, you can start to spot the very first cracks in winter’s facade in February. But not so in January. In January, the wind blows just that bit more bitterly.
It’s a time, I feel, of obscene beauty.
I didn’t always love the winter. Fifteen years ago, I was a summer girl through and through. I remember the sheer misery of the cold, the endlessness of the season, the absolute desperation for any kind of warmth. But something changed in the interceding years. Something about winter got into my bones.
Part of it, I think, is the coziness of the season. The inward-turning, the quiet, the solitude. The delight of warm light and muted voices. A steaming pot of soup on the stove. The layers of soft clothing. The bite of wind on your cheeks and the tingle in your fingers as you warm. The homeyness.
But it’s also the contrast, the paradoxes, the transitions between outdoors and in. The indifferent snow. That we, in all of our technology and stupidity and despite our best efforts, haven’t quite conquered the seasons yet. Nature is still winning, and the pines still tower in the freezing night. There’s something elemental about it, something that sings to our old blood. And I think, instead of fighting against the song, we’d be happier for letting it in. Letting it lull us to bed early under crystalline stars.
In honour of the dark and the winter-song, I thought I’d share a few of my favourite winter-adjacent non-fiction books. These books aren’t about winter per se, but they all somehow speak to the same inner piece of me that feels at home this time of year. I hope you find a good read among them.
- Wintering by Katherine May: This personal memoir is about how rest serves us during hard times, how letting ourselves ‘winter’ is a path to healing. It’s a challenging and comforting book and a good read for the January blues.
- Braiding Sweetgrass by Robin Wall Kimmerer: I’ve talked about this book before, because it rewired my synapses the first time I read it. It’s a treatise on the natural world told through the eyes of Kimmerer, who is a biologist and member of the Citizen Potawatomi Nation. It’s breathtakingly beautiful.
- Negotiating With the Dead by Margaret Atwood: I don’t really know why I feel pulled to include this. It’s a weird book, full of Atwood’s musings on what it means to be a writer. I haven’t reread it in a very long time, but it has stuck with me.
- The Old Ways by Robert Macfarlane: Robert Macfarlane is one of my favourite writers. He writes beautifully about nature and landscapes (my favourite topics), and you should read everything by him. In The Old Ways, he walks the ancient footpaths and sails the ancient seaways of Britain, and tells you about it. It’s gorgeous.
What I’m loving 🤍
- For all you stationery nerds out there, I recently got some of new Mildliner Mix highlighters (not to brag but Mike picked them up for me unprompted, because he’s the best) and they are very fun. I have been loving them in my daily journal.
- An artist whose work is bringing me a lot of comfort these days is Anna-Laura Sullivan. You’ve probably seen her art around the internet over the years, but it’s worth taking a deep dive for a hit of warmth and love. One piece that really got me recently was this comic about healing and bravery.
- I made the single most beautiful loaf of sourdough I’ve ever made this week. I have my sourdough process down to a science these days (never forget that I am, above all else, a bread slut) but I did a couple small things differently with this loaf, and she came out of the oven looking like this:
Until next time ❄️
That’s all I’ve got for you this week, friend. Stay warm, keep cozy, and have a restful week.
