Embracing the Restorative Rhythms of Winter

Sometimes when I’ve been throwing hay around, it smells like summer in the barn, and the sun comes through the windows and the cracks in the boards and makes shafts of light in the dusty air. But I never long for summer in the winter. What is that lovely quote from Shakespeare – “At Christmas I no more desire a rose / Than wish a snow in May’s newfangled mirth.” That’s the idea. For everything a season.

Tasha Tudor [The Private World of Tasha Tudor]

The happy hum of Christmas has faded and even the recent turning of the year seems somewhat distant. The cold days still to come might feel bleak and tiring. Yet as I look ahead to the remaining winter months, my heart is deeply craving a season of purposeful rest and renewal. I want to capitalize on these cold, quiet, often-at-home days.

Last year, our family read through the absolutely delightful Little House on the Prairie books and I noted the distinction of work, rest, and play in each season. Winter came on the heels of furious preparation: fall crops harvested and preserved for sustenance through the colder months, firewood hauled, chopped and stacked, their stores of dry goods stockpiled. As then as winter quietly wrapped around them, the Ingalls family turned their attention to work and pastimes put on hold during the warmer months.

They knew that spring would eventually come with its energizing warmth and its own set of responsibilities and joys.

“Everything snug as bugs in a rug,” said Pa, tuning the fiddle. “I piled bags of oats across one end of the stable to make a small place for the cow and the team. They’ll have all they can eat, too, and they’ll be warm and cosy. Yes, we’ve got everything to be thankful for.”

In the snug house Laura and Carrie helped Ma with the housework, and Grace played, running about the big room with toddling short steps. Whenever she was tired of play she climbed into Mary’s lap, for that was the warmest place and Mary would always tell her a story. Listening to stories, Grace would fall asleep. Then Ma laid her in her trundle bed by the stove, and they all settled down for a cosy afternoon of knitting and sewing and crocheting.

Pa did the chores and walked the trap line he had set along the edge of Big Slough. In the lean-to he skinned foxes and coyotes and muskrats, and stretched the furs on boards to dry.

Those were glorious days when they were out in the glitter of the sharp cold. Then it was good to come into the warm, close house, and good to eat supper, and through the evening of music and singing and dancing, Laura was the merriest of all.

Laura Ingalls [By the Shores of Silver Lake]

So I wonder, how might we be purposeful in the same way? While we long for the warmth and beauty of spring, how can we cultivate warmth and beauty in our homes this winter? Instead of chafing over the discomforts and inconveniences of winter, how could we steward this time in wisdom and gratitude?

After the obvious celebration of winter has passed, we’re left with dozens of ordinary days. A cold, dreary, perhaps snow-filled Monday is just as much as part of winter as the holidays, and truth be told, can be just as magical… These short, dark days and how we spend them begin to define our season. To embrace the simplicity of winter, with its rich solitude and comfortable provisions, is a beautiful start to defining our everyday ordinary.

Shaye Elliott [Seasons at the Farm]

While a quick look out the window confirms that not much is growing – some things even dying under a blanket of snow, this season of rest is vital for the growth that is to come. Just as the soil needs time to rest and remineralize so that it can nourish the verdancy of spring, our hearts and minds need rest and renewal.

I’m learning to embrace winter’s cue even before our tree goes up and long after. To carve out time for warm nights spent fireside with all the kids snuggled in around us and afternoons spent baking treats to gift (and, of course, to eat). To bundle up for family walks where we can watch the way our breath mingles with the crisp air… In a season when we’re easily distracted, these intentional moments, even in their simplicity feel like an offering. Their comforts hold us tight, yet even in all their familiarity, there is the feeling of something new to discover.

Joanna Gaines [Magnolia Journal, Winter 2020 issue]

There are gifts to be found in the circling of the seasons – if we will pause and ponder how the Lord is leading us. I hope we will see winter as a time for rest and renewal, for our roots going deeper in the quiet. We may not see fruit growing or flowers blooming just yet, but let’s embrace the restorative rhythms of winter because spring will come.

He is like a tree… that brings forth its fruit in its season.
Psalm 1:3