Rising to the Light
The light we carry. Letting go to rise. Settling into this new season.
*** I will be taking a short week break from this space. If you are a paid subscriber, head to the Member Space tab to get your Winter Guide to enjoy through the holidays. See you all here again beginning on January 1st. ***
Here we are, beginning winter. The layers of the landscape are subtler now. The quiet has arrived, even as we may experience varying and weird temps for this time of year. The settled nature of the world around us is palpable as I watch a hushed landscape while the sun dips behind the hills at almost 4:45 PM. A winter landscape is something precious to behold. It is something that draws you in or doesn’t, but for me, it is where I feel most settled. Something about everything standing still in this season reminds me I can do the same. It is as if, now I can finally breathe in deeply in a way I didn’t even notice I hadn’t in a while.
I ran from winter for a long time in my life. I ran because I didn’t want to handle the discomfort of the cold on my cheeks and fingers. I wanted to live in a way that everything was just comfortable, easy to handle, and digest in the world. I wanted to be in control and not at the whims of the weather. I then realized the gift that comes with life lived amongst the seasons and whims of nature.
Now, as I take an evening walk on these quiet winter days (lacking snow but still beautiful), I find that the winds even draw me in despite their chill. I am reminded that a good life isn’t about being consistently in the same temps or comfortable day in and day out. Instead, it holds challenges, dark places, times of big feelings and big joy, and time to rest and withdraw in order to heal. I am even reminded by the north wind on the chilly lake that raging is necessary. Experiencing the beautiful and flourishing/abundant times in life is as important as the ones where we break big waves on the shore in anger or sadness. Even the days that find ourselves deep under the covers or near a fire, making the most of the storage onion. Life is best lived in the ebbs and flows that rest on the edges of the comfortable.
With solstice passed us, the holidays are nearly upon us. When the shiny morning of lights and company of loved ones passes us next week and the new year rolls around, we will feel some urgency to plan our lives, take a step in a new direction, and create change. I beg differently. I beg you to stay slow in this upcoming season. I beg you to sit back, dream, and listen to yourself in the landscape’s silence. I beg you to love on winter and yourself as much as you need to fall in love so deeply you feel seen and rejuvenated when the days finally are apparently longer, and the shadows on the wall shift to keep you company while cooking the first fresh greens of late winter.
I beg you to be slow because despite what the world will urge us to believe in January, winter is our time to slumber, dream, and heal. It is the time to sink into our roots and reconnect with the places in us that we haven’t. It is the time to go on walks or go skiing. To play and let the play warm us. Then, we should eat warm foods that bring the frozen parts of ourselves back to life in a way that the raw and bright flavors of summer never can.
Wintering has taught me many things, whether in the years of my life when the winter was endless in my life or if they were the ones I experienced in nature — sometimes simultaneously. Either way, winters are gifts to us in any form because they allow us to reflect and realize what matters in our lives and what no longer does. It allows us to look back with an intention in order to guide us into the light.
In all the ways Autumn allowed us to release what no longer was right for us, winter allows us to turn it into fuel for us to rise to the light. So, I hope you take this time over the holiday weeks to sink into this important season ahead of us. The lights of the holidays will dim, and the company will leave us. We will find ourselves in the days ahead waiting for the sun to come home to us, and while we do, winter will need us to be slow and present. So use some of this time of the year to practice this where you can. Find rhythms to turn those things you are leaving behind into something that can feed you into a new year, but don’t rush winter. Even when it feels long. Winter is as long as we need it to be. The discomfort is simply where we need more growth. I know because I am there. We all are.
So hello, winter. You are welcome here. It’s good to officially let you settle in beside us like an old, comforting friend.
Happy holiday season. Don’t rush into anything when the new year rolls around. Sink in and let your intuition guide you to the light that lies ahead of us all.
If you are a paid subscriber, I have a guide about winter, so don’t forget to download it from the Member Space at the top of the homepage for Through the Seasons or check the chat space.
This is the last podcast episode for 2023! How am I saying that? I recorded nearly 45 episodes this year, and it is hard to imagine sometimes. Enjoy this final one about entering winter and how to approach it while we span the final weeks of December.
12/22 Reflection - Thriving
On the land, we have dozens of Eastern White Pines. I have talked about them many times because I find them inspiring and comforting at various times in life in the last few years. I have watched them through many storms and seasons, and finally, I have been here long enough to see some of them go from saplings to trees with broad branches. It’s a gift to watch a landscape take shape and to love it so deeply that its growth in some way speaks to your own.
As I wander on the land in the stillness of these first few breaths of winter, I am noting once again how these pines have a beauty that shines most clearly in these winter days. I always feel they are most themselves and thriving after the snow falls on them and covers their mossy understory. I even love to think of them dancing when the northwest winds hit them during a snowstorm. They have flexibility and vibrancy to their movement in those storms. It is obvious they were designed to flourish amongst these sorts of storms and dramatic shifts in the seasons.
Watching the pines after this most recent light snow, they feel vibrant against the rest of the landscape. The low sun hitting them and streaming in through their branches; there seems to be something different about them in these months. In summer, they feel sort of heavy and dry on the landscape, and in the fall, they go through their shedding of needles or, rather, a transition. Now, though, they feel they are peaking in the year. It feels like this is when they freely dance in the cold air and are most themselves.
Wandering through the pine valley where they surround me on my trek home, I feel it all around me. There is an unspoken conversation happening about how this time of year is such a gift.
I stand and soak in the energy of finding a way to be our best in this harsh season. Once again, I am reminded how much of a gift the pines are in these months. How they shelter and protect but also remind us that winter isn’t just a time of dormancy but a time to find a way to thrive and live abundantly in ways that summer never offers us.
If I chase nothing else this winter, it will be to be more like the Eastern White Pines I call my neighbors. To stand tall in the north wind, dance in the storms, and be a safe place to be for myself and others even in the height of the winters in life. May I learn how to thrive and mimic their passion for a season such as this one so I can see how wonderful it is to learn the gift of winter in new ways this year from them.
A Year In Review
Since I am away from Instagram, I wanted to share a few moments from this last year that really stood out in our life here on this hill. It has been a wonderful and special year full of beautiful moments. Here are a few looks into life for me in 2023:
As I was putting this together I realized SOOO much happened this year. I won’t fit it all here, but I can sum it up in some way.
I skied a lot this year. After a few years of having a young child and it feeling really hard to get good time out in the snow I got it in this last winter. It felt amazing. It was all thanks to my mother, but it brought me a lot of joy. I celebrated my birthday in January on the slopes. The best way to celebrate in my opinion.
Mike and I got far more time together this year. We both needed that. Raising 2 young kids in a pandemic had a toll on us individually not as much on our relationship and we needed time to just be more. We slipped away for a trip outside Austin alone in March and found time far more often for ourselves, which was a win.
I began shifting my gardening/edible landscape career to be focused on consulting more. One of the beginnings of this was working for the 2nd year on the Organic Plant Sale with Lakeview Hill Farm. It was amazing and gorgeous and so special. I loved wandering through the greenhouse and explaining all the plants to customers.
This year I and Tom, another staff member at the school, worked for the 2nd year to bring to life this amazing school garden space at the kid’s school. I also began teaching once a week with a group of middle schoolers here. It has been the highlight of my week.
My mom retired and we threw her a surprise party in our garden. It was magical and perfect. It felt so important to celebrate her and all she has done over her career. This night was the perfect way to do it.
My brother a week or so later got married. I am a proud sister of this guy who has been with me since I was 5. I feel lucky to call him my brother and to now have a sister.
I spent a ton of time growing and selling flowers this year from our garden. I have long wanted to market garden from our 1 acre of growing space. This year was the first year.
Both my kids steal my heart in unique ways. They are so crazy fun and cool humans. Parenting is hard, but this year watching the oldest really come into his own even as he overcomes challenges has been amazing. This was from a quick trip we took with just him to NYC, which I know was a core memory.
The youngest one started at school this year and it felt amazing for us all. She was very ready and a new dawn came to our home. It was so amazing to watch her grow and bloom this year from a toddler to a little girl. I ache watching her grow. Ache for her to stay small and ache for her become more of who she is. It’s a paradoxal space of being a parent.
There are so many other amazing parts of this year like events and big moments I didn’t even touch, but gosh this feels so amazing to just see. I hope you take time to look back at your year to see all the amazing parts of your life that are worthy of celebration and gratitude.
This week, I also shared these posts for subscribers:
How to Pay Attention This Week - The darkness is now our ever present friend
The Clearing and The Oak - How a tree taught me how to discover myself again
Reconnecting with Our Intuition - Last week’s free newsletter
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