“Taking their cues from nature, our Celtic ancestors long associated this period with hunkering down, rest and regeneration. They savoured the slowness of Winter. Something about this annual rhythm of slowing down and letting go resonates deeply within us; indeed, evidence has recently been discovered that early humans would hibernate to survive harsh glacial Winters.
[…] For many of us, the pace of the world makes it challenging to slow down and allow our bodies and minds time to become accustomed to the colder months. Electricity, lighting and central heating are all modern conveniences that make our Winters easier to survive, of course – but they also mask our inner signals to slow, rest and revive. I’m certain this is why many of us are left feeling low in the Winter months: the world keeps turning and we are expected to carry on at the same pace, lest we be left behind.”
- From the first chapter of my book, Slow Seasons, ‘Imbolc: Reflecting and Hibernating’.
Next Saturday is Imbolc, meaning that we will have made it through the darkest 12 weeks of the year, the six either side of the Winter Solstice being some of the toughest to get through for many of us. I shared on my Instagram that I’ve been finding this Winter particularly tough, and was inundated with messages of agreement, as well as messages letting me know how much reading Slow Seasons has helped you, which is so lovely to hear. I suppose I’ve been needing to remind myself to take my own advice! So I thought this month to mark Imbolc I would share some of the things that have been helping me to find the light in this dark season. Thank you to those of you who also took the time to message and to share with me how you navigate the Winter months. I’ve got a lot more to say about this in the future so watch this space!
Search for the Glimmers
As I wrote about in my last monthly newsletter - which seemed to resonate with many of you - I’m all about embracing a slow start to the New Year. Part of this is about embracing the darkness (resting where possible, staying close to home and nurturing our bodies) and the other part is about searching for the light. I don't know about you, but I find the latter can be much harder. However, it’s nature that serves as a reminder to me again and again. Spotting the first buds on the trees. The scent of viburnum. The song of a robin. The neon pinks and startling blues of a Winter sunrise. The sound of geese flying overhead. Nature has a resilience, an instinct to prevail, to find the light, to create life and energy and beauty - and we do too. Each day I’m trying to note down some of the small things that have brought momentary glimmers, micro-joys and flashes of light through dark clouds. Today’s: making pancakes at teatime to enjoy as a family; a walk in the woods before catching up with errands; baby L laughing at me sneezing like it was the funniest thing in the world. Try noting the glimmers like I have been - it makes us savour them all the more.
Embrace Candlelight for Imbolc
In the Celtic Wheel of the Year, Imbolc is the celebration of returning light, growth and fertility on 1st and 2nd February. This is the midpoint between Yule - the Winter Solstice - and Ostara - the Spring Equinox - and actually the first of the Spring festivals in our ancestors’ tradition (Winter begins with Samhain at the end of October). Imbolc is associated with light, and lighting the candles - coinciding with Christianity’s Candlemas. Traditionally, families would extinguish and relight the fire, there would be candles in each room, and Spring cleaning would take place - a broom at the door to symbolise the cleaning out of the old. I’ve been trying not to save my candles “for best” and light them each evening to enjoy their warming glow and scent. In Slow Seasons there are step by step instructions for how to make a hand poured soy or beeswax candle - the process is a lovely, mindful thing to do at this time of year.
Noticing Nature
Getting outside every day is something that helps me all year round; it may be harder in Winter but I always feel that the effort is rewarded. When I mentioned struggling in Winter on Instagram, so many of you agreed that getting out is a tonic - even, if not especially, when you don’t feel like it. Though I live in the city, when I’m out and about I’m making a concerted effort to notice what’s happening in the gardens, parks and green spaces around me. This week I‘ve also seen my first catkins, some quince blossom and beautiful zesty yellow witch hazel. These sights brought so much joy and are a reminder that life and energy is still abundant if we look for it. You can read my Nature Notes in Slow Seasons for an idea of flora and fauna to look out for!
Snowdrop Spotting
Have you seen your first snowdrop of the year yet? Spotting those first delicate white flowers is a sure sign that we’re through the worst of the darkness and that Spring will come again. I was revisiting the village in which I grew up - Aberdour - to research a feature that I’m writing, and it was an extra special moment when I saw the first snowdrops of the year in the place where we would always spot them first growing up, just by a beautiful gatehouse at the entrance of the street that leads to the Fife Coastal Path. It has become another Imbolc tradition to visit my favourite garden, Cambo, and their annual snowdrop festival in the East Neuk of Fife each year. While I wait impatiently for our visit, I’ve planted up some paper whites inside, and they bloomed this last week just when I really needed the reminder of patience and perseverance.
Kitchen Comfort
I think nature knows that we need a bit of colour and comfort in these cold, dark months: there’s a riot of different seasonal shades to be found if you look for them. From zesty lemons and oranges to magenta radicchio to the neon stems of rainbow chard, there are plenty of ingredients that can give us a taste of colour. I spotted my first blood oranges and Sevilles last week passing the local grocer and next weekend I’ll be making my blood orange and cardamom marmalade from Slow Seasons to restock the larder, while using up some of last year’s marmalade in the below recipe…
Marmalade and Ginger Cake
Marmalade pairs perfectly with the heat of stem ginger, while a sticky glaze completes this comforting, properly Wintery marmalade and ginger cake. You can use shop bought marmalade or homemade. To make the cake, you will need:
150g self-raising flour
25g ground almonds
2 balls of stem ginger, chopped into small pieces, and one tsp ginger syrup from the jar
100g butter, softened
75g muscovado sugar
2 eggs, beaten
100g marmalade
Grated zest and juice of one large orange, reserving 60ml for the glaze
For the glaze:
1 tbsp marmalade
1 tsp ginger syrup
60 ml orange juice.
Preheat the oven to Fan 160C/ Gas 5 and grease and line a 20cm round tin. Cream the butter and sugar until light and fluffy, then add the eggs, one at a time, adding a little flour with each to stop the mixture curdling. Add the marmalade and orange zest, juice and chopped stem ginger and syrup, then fold through the dry ingredients. Spoon into the prepared tin and level the surface.
Bake for 50 minutes to one hour, until a skewer inserted in the middle comes out clean. Cool slightly on a wire rack while you make the glaze. Gently heat the marmalade, juice and ginger syrup over a low heat until smooth and runny. Pour over the top of the warm cake and leave to soak in a little.
Serve with a spoonful of yoghurt or even warmed with custard for a tempting Winter dessert.
If you enjoy my seasonal to do lists and slow living tips, do consider joining us in my paid subscriber community for my weekly posts. 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:
Midwinter Reflections and Journaling Prompts
Slow Decorating: Bedroom Two, Part One
Marmalade and Chocolate Shortbread
Sow, Grow, Harvest, Rest Reading Group: January
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! I follow the progress of the year through each mini season, from Imbolc at the start of the year to Yule at the end and is beautifully illustrated by Holly Ovenden throughout. You can read more about it in this post and you can order ‘Slow Seasons’ here.
Beautiful! Savouring Winter & luxuriating in the slowness it can offer. A time to plant seeds of potentials & compost.
that cake sounds amazing!