Twenty ways to enjoy winter
Marking the fifth birthday of ‘Wintering’
On Saturday 18 October I will be running two hour-long Rise and Shine online sessions for full subscribers to The Clearing, to offer a space of calmness before the No Kings protests in the US. Those who aren’t in the US are also welcome to join. The sessions will be at noon and 3pm UK time, and I will put the joining details in a separate post.
Things are looking decidedly gloomy around here this week. The mornings are so dark that it seems absurd to get out of bed, and the evenings feel decidedly chilly. There has been talk of putting the heating on, although I have resisted so far. I’m calling it: winter is coming.
I know that this is a season of despair for many - a sense of desolation sets in as the light and heat recede. Or maybe, like me, you’re just in need of something to cheer you up a little. Either way, here are some great ways to feel your way into the dark season - not just to grin and bear it, but to love it.
Soup season is here. This is never a bad thing. Tins of brick-red Heinz tomato: yes. Elegant broths with kale and beans: absolutely. ALL THE SOUPS, please. I recently bought these lion ramen bowls and they are now the only thing I’ll eat out of. Plates are so last season. (Relatedly: does anyone have this monastic soup recipe book? It looks great.)
Adjust your light levels. You cannot blast away the afternoon gloom with bright electric light - it just makes everything look seedy. Instead, work with the perpetual twilight, making it twinkle with candles and lamps. I love Winterfold scented candles, which have names such as Quietude, First Frost, Darkling Sky, Hibernation and, yes, Wintering. But simple pillar candles are more than adequate.
Go on a mushroom walk. Foragers are reporting one of the best years in memory for edible mushrooms, but you don’t have to pick them to enjoy them. The woods are currently full of bright red fly agarics and russulas, golden sulphur tufts, and flourishes of white oyster mushrooms on dead logs. They offer a real visual thrill, and the fascination only deepens when you start to learn their names. If you can, consider joining a course near you - years of autumn joy guaranteed.
Perform a knitwear inventory. Sweater weather does not necessarily require a trip to the shops: at this time of year, I like to take stock of what I have already, running it all through the wash to get rid of the stale smell, and sewing up any little holes. At the same time, I regularly search Vinted for cashmere - it’s amazing what you can find on there.
Lean in to Halloween. Thanks to my son, I am now a full convert to spooky season. Yes, it’s tacky. But it’s also a time of pure, childish glee. Surrender! I’m currently planning this year’s Halloween food-with-faces extravaganza, and hanging my East End Press Bat Bunting.
But plan for All Souls’ Day too. This traditional moment in the Christian calendar is set aside for remembering our departed friends and family, and I firmly believe we should bring it back. It’s a day for visiting graves or favoured old locations or lighting a votive candle in remembrance. But it’s also a good day to let grieving friends know you remember them. Traditionally, people would hand out soul cakes, but they are an acquired taste - try muffins instead.
Journaling. Don’t get in your head about the beautiful journals you see on Instagram. A favourite pen, your thoughts and a sense of privacy are quite enough. I strongly believe that fancy notebooks are the enemy of good journaling - see my guide to keeping a notebook for more details.
Socks are one of life’s small luxuries. Over the past few years, I’ve started to invest in good-quality socks - a couple of new pairs a year. They last and last, and I can repair any holes. I love Arbon for real woollen socks or the Japanese brand RoToTo, which last and last and last.
Curl up with a wintery memoir. It will help you to feel your way into the season - and the best books capture the pain as well as the pleasure. You already know I love A Woman in the Polar Night, but have you also read Nina Maclaughlin’s Winter Solstice, Gretel Ehrlich’s This Cold Heaven, Tété-Michel Kpomassie’s Michel The Great, Joanna Kavenna’s The Ice Museum, or Basho’s The Narrow Road to the Deep North?
Attend a festival of light. I know it’s hard to truly want to venture outside at this time of year, but it helps to be part of a crowd. Wrap up warm and get out for Divali, bonfire night or a lantern parade. It will remind you that dark nights can still be a friendly place.
Stay hydrated. Sorry, wait, hot chocolate counts, right? I am a lover of proper cocoa made from scratch, but the rest of my household are Velvetiser converts, and I am partial to the occasional mug of Knoops or Maya as a special treat. I also use mine to make a turmeric latte, with 1 tsp turmeric, 1 tsp coconut oil, 1 tsp honey, a grind of black pepper and a cup of oat milk. Not sure if I like the taste or the bright yellow colour, but either way it makes me happy.
Take part in Dusking. Every year, artist Lucy Wright dances down the sun to mirror the May Day festivities. It’s an invented tradition that invites solo participants - check out her website to see how you can join her.
Watch Song of the Sea. If you haven’t seen this gorgeous Irish animation, you’re in for an utter treat.
Stock up your cupboards. There is something very reassuring in seeing full shelves as you approach the cold season. Personally, I love to make pickles and preserves at this time of year, and I’ll be baking my Christmas cake on stir-up Sunday, 23rd November. But you could equally interpret this as an invitation to fill your shelves with food that makes easy meals for the days when any effort is too much. There is comfort in knowing you can survive on your supplies for a week or two.
Spend some time with a tree. The process of leaf-fall is poignant and beautiful, and it’s also very easy to let it pass you by. Pick a nearby tree and check in with it day by day, noticing the way the colours change and the transition to bare branches. It always seems to happen slowly and then all at once.
Plan for the Winter solstice. Every year, when I write about my own solstice ritual (nothing more than a simple fire and some drinks with friends), I get lots of messages to say ‘Oh, I missed it! Next year!’ Well, here’s your early alert: get the date in your diary, and decide how you’d like to mark it. This year, it falls on 21st December. You have plenty of time.
Two words: Baked Alaska. Surely the perfect transitional dessert, combining hot meringue and cold ice-cream. Take this as a sign.
Make something. This is such an excellent time of year for crafts. Space is limited in my house, so I favour the kind of project that I can work on my knees while watching TV or listening to a podcast: knitting scarves, sashiko stitching, or crocheting granny squares. (Full disclosure: I never finish anything.) I also quite like drawing at this time of year. I recently bought myself a pile of blank postcards and I paint stripes of ink or watercolour on them, or draw on them in thick black pen. No pressure, all process.
Christmas prepping. It’s time to catch up with your mother on this: start as early as possible, and enjoy it. Buy up the gorgeous wrapping paper in increments. Start planning a colour scheme for your tree. Let yourself be pulled towards the lovely bits of the season, and refuse to get involved in the stress. I’ve been stashing away stocking fillers since August, and I’m not ashamed to admit it.
Grownups are allowed advent calendars too. This year, I’m trying to choose between the St Eval tealight calendar, the Bookstore Bibliophile’s calendar, and the Diamine Inkvent calendar. Anything to manage those long December mornings.
A lot of people are already telling me that they’re starting their annual re-read of Wintering, and who am I to stand in your way? It is five years old this winter, and is now available in this beautiful new gift edition in the UK, or the iconic US hardback. Ask your local indie bookshop for a copy, or find order links here.
Do you have a suggestion for making the winter months more joyful? Please share them in the chat!
If you think a friend or loved one would enjoy The Clearing by Katherine May, gift subscriptions are available here | Website | Buy: Enchantment UK /US | Buy: Wintering UK / US | Buy: The Electricity of Every Living Thing UK / US | Join: The Way Through Winter course
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Plant spring bulbs. Getting hands into the soil reminds us of nature's need to die back and replenish. Plus it's a chance to squirrel away hope for spring, and a gift to your future self.
Love this list so much; I wanted to share a lovely winter image from artist Jackie Morris that I came across tonight ✨
https://www.instagram.com/p/DP17KSaAp2T/?igsh=MWNmdWM4OTJiam1pNQ==