Originally posted on Palace Ancestors January 26, 2023

I know winter can be tough on some people. Shorter days with less sunlight, days that are cold and grey, the way the damp gets into your bones. Fortunately, I’m one of those weirdos who actually enjoys the colder months—it means I get to pull on my coziest clothes and drink tea under a blanket. 

But there does come a point when it feels we’ve been sucked into the dark, gaping hole that is winter, and I long for warmer days. It’s at this time that I start to miss spring and everything that comes with it: warmer wind, lighter days, daffodils pushing through the dirt and robins darting across the lawn. I especially miss gardening—puttering in the garden, watering the carrots—but I know those days will come soon enough.

Until then, I find joy in the little things.

“I stand at the window and observe: the whorl of cloud cutting over the mountain, the raindrops quivering on the window glass, the light refracting through a suncatcher, rainbows flung across the wall.”

Slowing down

This is something that feels like an eternal struggle for me, even when winter comes around. There are so many things I want to do, books I want to read, art I want to make, people I want to see, things I want to learn; how am I expected to slow down and just be?

I am trying, though. In the mornings I wake and come into the kitchen to either a stunning sunrise over the mountains or swathes of grey clouds hemming the house in. Either way, I stand at the window and observe: the whorl of cloud cutting over the mountain, the raindrops quivering on the window glass, the light refracting through a suncatcher, rainbows flung across the wall. I stand and I exist and notice my body: is there tension knotting itself in my shoulders? Do I need to lie on the floor and stare at the ceiling? 

I do whatever my body needs me to do. And then I allow the day to sweep me up and take me where I need to be.

Baking

When I was younger—late teens to early twenties—I was obsessed with baking. I mean it. Most of my free time went into scrolling the internet for new, exciting recipes, then trying them out on my friends and family. I baked raspberry cakes, chocolate oatmeal cookies with dried cherries, double chocolate cupcakes with oreo crumbs across the top, and white, fluffy loaves of bread that never lasted more than a day or two.

In my mid-twenties I slowed down, finding new ways to spend my time: working at a newspaper, writing poetry, actually leaving my house and spending time with real live humans.But this winter I’ve found myself backpedaling to this state of being, one where almond tarts and pumpkin loaf shifts into my awareness until there’s nothing left for me to do but bake it. 

Most recently I’ve baked chocolate muffins, shortbread cookies, and several loaves of bread. Every time I get down to the ends, I carve out a couple hours at home where I can make a new loaf, interspersing chores or rest with mixing, kneading, rising, and baking. 

“I carve out a couple hours at home where I can make a new loaf, interspersing chores or rest with mixing, kneading, rising, and baking.”

Fiber arts

Though I started knitting when I was nineteen, I only knit sporadically until about three years ago, after which I found a toque pattern that I can’t get enough of. I’ve knit at least twenty of them—not all for me! Many were gifts—and don’t seem to be stopping any time soon. Every time I sift through the yarn section at Michaels, I seem to find a new colour I want to try out. This winter, that colour was a beautiful blend of red, magenta, violet, and blue. 

Aside from that, I’ve been knitting “the ungodly scarf,” named first for what would be its monstrous size, but was then more fitting of how the yarn acted—I must have spent two hours untangling the knots within.

Besides knitting, I was given a loom for Christmas and have been spending time looking through Pinterest for patterns and inspiration, and recently took a few books on weaving out of the library. I’ve spent quiet mornings flipping through the pages, noting down any ideas have while I do. I’m very much looking forward to starting a (small) tapestry when the ungodly scarf is finished.

Mindful walks

Another activity I used to do but let slide: walking. There was a time when I walked daily, regardless of weather or how cold it was, but again, life got in the way. In more recent years any walks I did involved taking students around the track: during COVID and when I was teaching, the high school I was at had these absurdly long, three-hour blocks. We had to get up and move at some point! That, or maybe a ten minute walk around the block to loosen my over-wound thoughts when I’d been doing homework for three hours.

Now, I’m trying to get out and walk every day, and not just as a short breather before diving back into work. I walk for at least twenty minutes, and I try to be mindful of what’s going on around me: which birds I see, what the wind feels like on my face, any cool plants I notice along the way. 

And now for a rapid fire round:

• The lovely pink water glasses I was given for my birthday
• The silhouettes of tree branches against the sky
• Dark chocolate strawberry Lindor chocolate
• How Franklin (cat #2) sleeps on my stomach when I’m reading
• Listening to the rain on the windows at night
• The feeling of brushing paint onto a canvas

That’s all for today. Thanks for reading, and may the coming weeks be gentle and kind to you.

P.S. What about you? Where have you been finding joy this winter?

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