Take notice and take note
On wintering, slowing down, cozying up, taking notice, and writing it down.
Constant window condensation, growing icicles destroying roofs, the sad and scratchy whoops of elderly vehicles incapable of comprehending why they are being forced to turn over and awaken from deep hibernation.
The bitter breeze might burn your lungs so try not to gasp when I say—the dark, dreary month of January has always been one of my favorites.
After the rush of the holidays, January has always felt like a month where no one checks in, no one marks progress, and no one plans social gatherings. When I taught 4K, the fall was full of back to school busyness that led into assessment busyness that led into parent/teacher conference busyness that led into school holiday busyness. It was one thing on top of another and no one could catch a breath.
But then came January.
We’d come back from school. We’d perform our well oiled routines with minimal effort. There was no assessing to rush through. There were no holidays to prep for. There was nothing but genuine curiosity and wonder. We’d slowly continue to learn. The kids would make more art. We’d get more fresh, crisp winter air. I’d whip out the electric tea kettle and pass out small cups of hot chocolate while the littles’ played.
Maybe you think I’m lying. That all sounds too good to be true. Like a perfect little cozy place you’d want your little ones to call home during the day.
That was always the goal. And January made it possible.
In my adulthood, January has naturally felt like a month of cozy. A month of no pressure. A month of being at ease. A month of steaming tea, wool socks, and oversized sweaters. A month of unmeasured laziness.
Now as a mother, I actively choose to practice coziness in January. This year, it has felt especially important. Since October, we experienced a miscarriage in the middle of a kitchen renovation (I’m talking—our kitchen was down to the studs) that needed to be at least somewhat finished solely by the hands of my husband and CLEANED UP before we hosted Christmas. As if Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, and three tiny humans with big emotions and constant needs wasn’t enough. It was a full few months to say the least. Having a “planned” month to rest and renew some sanity has seemed more like a necessity.
It was only recently that I learned some people call this—wintering.
Previously, I would have only used wintering as a term used to describe something in nature, like what birds do during the cold season. Technically the term used in nature is “overwintering” but the six times I’ve used the term in my entire life, I’ve said “wintering”. For example, birds winter in the south. Or the arctic fox winters like a boss. Or potted plants don’t winter well; aka bring them inside before you either murder them outright or bring them to a slow, wilt-y demise with the first frost.
I’m not exactly sure what it means in regards to humans. There’s a book, Wintering by Katherine May, that apparently defines this term. (I haven’t read it. It’s on my “to read” list—have you read it? Like it?)
From what I’ve gathered reading about the term without reading her book, when we experience seasons of chaos, rejection, sadness, feelings of being stuck, or worse…etc., when we experience these seasons of winter, it’s important to recognize the season and allow it in and allow it to pass through and renew us.
Invite winter in, but not to consume us.
May quotes, “Plants and animals don’t fight the winter; they don’t pretend it’s not happening and attempt to carry on living the same lives that they lived in the summer. They prepare. They adapt. They perform extraordinary acts of metamorphosis to get them through. Winter is a time of withdrawing from the world, maximising scant resources, carrying out acts of brutal efficiency and vanishing from sight; but that’s where the transformation occurs. Winter is not the death of the life cycle, but its crucible.”
The language of our internet, however, sounds much different—
Push ahead. Push ahead. Get in front.
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Why am I so mesmerized by the winter birds devouring our feeders?
The birds go about their days, simply being.
They aren’t scurrying around, desperate to find a way out of the season. They could fly to a warmer place, but they don’t. They’re fine here.
Because they choose to linger in the cold and snow, in the winter, we get to spend thousands of dollars on sunflower seed for the opportunity to gape in awe;
captivated with the chickadees, the cardinals, the nuthatches, the juncos, all playfully hopping about, snacking away, living with less of a crowd.
They do not appear to be merely surviving.
We’ve been enjoying the slowness of January in a few of my favorite ways.
Not a lot of plans, lots of warm tea and time at home, a bit of decluttering, a bit of planning and mental clarity, and lots of reading and writing and creating and processing.
If you’re a parent (especially), you’ll love this prompt by
. You can think on it, photograph it, journal it, or jot down a quick note wherever you keep family memories written down. prompts us to think about what we noticed this week, what we want to remember.As I read her post, I thought of a reoccurring moment that had happened a few minutes prior. I’ve never written the reoccurring moment down because it’s reoccurring, it happens every day so I’ll definitely remember. But this has happened before. And while the vague memories remain, the details grow foggy.
So many other, not reoccurring, small moments go by where I think, “I should write this down, capture exactly what they said…I’ll write it down when I walk downstairs…I’ll get to it in a minute.” When in a minute arrives, I’ve forgotten.
I’ve already cursed myself several more times for not recording small moments just this week, but today, let’s pat ourselves on the back together. Here is your invitation to write down one small moment you noticed or want to remember. Thanks
for prompting us to take notice.Here’s mine:
This is so beautiful and relatable. Thank you for sharing.
During the warmer months I am so busy. I over schedule myself and get what I call "sun-guilt" if I'm not outside enjoying the more "desirable" weather. But it's exhausting, and things pile up at home, we eat more fast food because sometimes we've been out ALL day and it's too late to cook or I'm just completely drained. And then winter comes around and things naturally slow down. Especially this year. Truthfully, I've really been enjoying the slowness of the last month, but I can't stop the little voice inside my head from calling me lazy. So I'm making it a point to make sure I'm focusing on the little things that make me happy. Cuddling on the couch with my five year old, cooking and baking more, catching up on things that usually get tossed aside when I'm go-go-go in the warmer months.
I appreciated your post and love your perspective. Happy Wintering.
Beautiful poem. Xo