A Whispered Promise of Quiet Potential: the In Between Days

Celtic Omen Days and a slow recipe for clementine and almond buns to round off the year ✨

“The contrast between the sparkle of Christmas and the greyness of January, alongside the narrative of self-improvement, busyness and denial of the post-festive period meant that I used to intensely dislike the start of the year.

However, there is another way of looking at this blank slate. There is quiet potential in this time: its opportunity and whispered promise, our powerlessness in the face of nature. There is hope in it all – the regenerative power of the new year.” - Rosie Steer, ‘Slow Seasons’.

These in between days in the calendar that lead from Christmas to the New Year are ones that, in all honesty, I used to struggle with: feeling a little rudderless without a routine, scrolling and comparing my year with the ubiquitous social media year in review round-ups, the sparkle of Christmas over and January looming dark and grey on the horizon. More recently I’ve come to see this time differently, as I write about in my book, but this Winter I’ve found myself struggling once again.

Partly it’s the state of the world, partly it’s the rubbish weather here and partly I am just very tired. December has been a big month for me with lots of hard work behind the scenes to try and carve out the kind of creative life I am learning that my soul needs. Days melt into weeks melt into months as time feels like it is going faster than ever and I want to press pause. I had a baby just before the Summer Solstice and suddenly the Winter Solstice has been and gone. I find myself suddenly understanding all the parenting clichés about long days and short years as the relentless passage of time marches on. So as the New Year beckons, I’m posting the words that began this post as much as a reminder to myself than anything to just gently be in this in between time.

One of the ways I’ve been trying to do just that is by reminding myself once more of the Celtic traditions associated with this time. Yule, Midwinter, wasn’t a one day event but lasted for twelve days - it was believed that the sun stood still for twelve whole days, and celebrations would take place throughout this time to honour ancestors during the darkest time of year. So I’m not rushing to go back to “normality” just yet. I’ll be embracing light and fire in the manner of my ancestors to savour the spirit of Midwinter. I’ll be lighting a candle in the window as they would, and embracing evergreens and twinkling lights a little longer.

Yule was a time of fire and feasting, yes - but also one of reflection, honouring the symbolic death and rebirth of the year. The Celtic Omen Days, or Days Out of Time start on St. Stephen’s Day (Boxing Day) and take us through to the 6th January, the Feast of the Epiphany (known by Scots in the Highlands as Là Féill nan Rìgh, the Feast Day of the Kings). This liminal time in the calendar was steeped with magic, a time to look for omens and signs. Each day was said to represent a month of the coming year (the 26th as January, 27th as February, etc.) and our ancestors would look for symbols and messages about the year ahead. Time spent contemplating in nature and using nature’s signs to predict the future were key parts of this ritual, called “frith” (find) in Scottish Gaelic.

So while society urges us forward to the next season with 2024 round ups, resolutions and the exhausting “new year, new you” narrative, it can distract us from the quiet potential and whispered promise of the new year that is sending us signs. It’s up to us to slow down and truly listen as time stands still. To get outside where we can (or bringing the outside in - my first paperwhites bloomed this week), and to reflect on the world around us and the messages it might be trying to relay to us.

When I want to slow time and tune into the season’s rhythms then I need to do something with my hands. I’ve been feeling this instinct keenly during advent and have found myself mainly in the kitchen doing lots of therapeutic baking. These clementine and almond buns are the perfect bake for these liminal days, encouraging you to slow down and embrace their secret ingredient: time.

Clementine and almond buns

These clementine and almond buns are a delicious seasonal treat. Citrus is coming into its own just now, and zesty clementines pair beautifully with sweet, nutty marzipan. The clementine buns have a marzipan filling and clementine drizzle, topped with toasted flaked almonds.

To make them, you will need:

For the dough:
130g plain flour
120g strong flour
180ml whole milk
20g butter
5g salt
5g fast action dried yeast
Zest of one clementine
For the filling:
25g butter
75g soft brown sugar
150g marzipan, grated.
For the topping:
Juice of one clementine
Enough icing sugar to make a thick water icing – I used 100g, but it depends how juicy your clementine is!
20g toasted flaked almonds.

First, make the dough. Combine the ingredients in the bowl of a stand mixer and knead for ten minutes. Leave the dough to rise for an hour, or until doubled in size. Alternatively, you can leave it in the fridge overnight to slow down the prove.

Next, make the filling. Cream the butter and sugar. Roll out the dough into a large rectangle, about half a centimetre thick. Spread the filling over the surface in an even layer, then sprinkle with the grated marzipan.

Roll the long end upwards into a tight spiral, pressing the end to seal. Chop into 2 centimetre rounds and place in a lined baking tin a little apart.

Prove for at least half an hour, until doubled in size again. Preheat the oven to 170C Fan. Bake for 20 – 25 minutes, until golden brown. Remove from the oven. While the buns are still warm, glaze with a little warmed golden syrup for added shine and stickiness.

Make a thick water icing with the clementine juice and drizzle over the buns. Sprinkle with toasted almonds and serve.

If you enjoy my seasonal recipes, to do lists and tips, do consider joining us in my paid subscriber community for more regular posts each week. Together in this wee corner of the Internet we are creating a beautiful community of like-minded old souls who want to slow down, simplify and connect with the seasons. Here’s a flavour of what I’ve been posting over there this last month:

Rosie Makes: Chocolate and Peppermint Shortbread

The Solstice Approaches

Tiramisu Pavlova and Hand Embossed Leaf Decorations for the Winter Solstice (bonus double post)

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Thanks so much for reading, and see you next month! Xxx

p.s. Slow Seasons is filled with seasonal crafts, recipes, nature notes and celebrations inspired by my Scottish heritage and if you enjoy this newsletter I think you’ll love it! You can read more about it in this post and order ‘Slow Seasons’ here.