The fields around my home seem empty in January. (They’re not as dormant as they look.) Before the snow falls each year, there’s nothing but brown stubble visible across many of them.
Even the daylight seems watery and thin compared to the way it feels vibrant and saturated in summer. The sky looks gray every day, pressing down heavily over the tall, bare skeletons of trees.
Each morning I stand with my tea looking out over the yard, watching for signs of change. Even when I can’t see them yet, I know they’re coming.
The land in these Appalachian foothills speaks in subtle signs. Sharing hints and whispers that need interpreting. Things that are easily missed if you’re not tuned in.
But I think that’s nature’s way of bringing us to stillness, allowing us to see what’s in the present. Making it so we can’t worry about anything else for just a moment.
Now, I have to admit that winter isn’t my favorite season. I’ve long regarded it as something to be endured rather than something to be enjoyed.
While I still feel a little bit like this, my relationship with winter has changed to one of respect for the work the season is doing.
Winter’s work is rest. In modern society, rest has become something labeled as weak or lazy (or worse). It certainly isn’t regarded as a path to abundance and yet, in nature, each part of the cycle is equally important.
Nothing in the natural world is designed to go without rest. Everything has a season and a cycle.
It’s been a tough transition for me to allow myself to experience my own fallow field era. Where I’m seemingly producing nothing, even if it’s a deeply necessary cycle.
Feeling exhausted has never done anything good for me but now that I live with two chronic illnesses, I’m ever more convinced that peace and a slower pace are definitely not something that reflects poorly on my character.
Like nature, I need a winter season.
Grief, loss and transition are often linked to the winter season but I think the barren field in January would say otherwise.
That field is storing exactly what it needs for spring. Working underground to prepare on a schedule only it gets to choose.
There will come a day when the rest of the world can see the new growth, but on any day in midwinter, most of the world sees nothing.
And yet, there’s abundance there, but it’s the sort we mostly can’t see yet.
Except for those of us who watch Mother Earth closely. We see things. Like how geese navigate thousands of miles without maps, returning to the same nesting sites over and over again throughout their lifetime.
And how a dead tree will spark new life or a river will find a way through rock, no matter what.
Ancient wisdom is there under our feet and all around us. Modern life tries to make us forget this. But we haven’t.
Sure, we now rely on alarm clocks instead of the rising sun to wake us up every day. And some of us have never experienced the joy of picking a homegrown, sun-ripened tomato.
But deep in our bones, we remember the ancient wisdom of Mother Earth.
As a younger woman, I was expecting myself to be the same version of me every single month, year in and year out. Green witchery and Mother Earth have reminded me that seasons and cycles are exactly how I should be because that is where the abundant wisdom of both is found.
Perhaps the true abundance of winter is being invited to look a little longer so that we notice what’s not obvious. To look for what’s changing and what’s growing and what’s happening below the surface.
These things might be found in the world around you or they might be found within you.
Last month, I started talking about the abundance available to us from the natural world around us every day. If you missed that piece, you can find it here.
Next month, we’ll move into springtime and keep going through each season until we’ve made it around the Wheel of the Year.
For now though, I want to invite you to consider what winter means to you and what you find in it.
Blessed be,
Karen
Karen believes in making a little magick every day. She’s a green witch, Certified Moonologer™, Reiki Master/Teacher, animist, shamanic practitioner, ordained minister, equestrian, mom to a human daughter and many animals, including cats, horses, and dogs. When she’s not working, you’ll find her enjoying the outdoors, spending time with her family, friends, and horses, gardening, or reading a good book.
Nice piece. Why is it so challenging to allow ourselves a winter season? I'm better about it, but I wonder if it has something to do with aging now? I don't want to waste a second...yet therein lies the issue...the belief I'm wasting time, my energy, or myself. Thank you for being here.
"Looking longer to notice what's not obvious" - love this.
I so agree - taking the time to peacefully slow down really makes space to see all that we have and what we didn't even realize we have.
Thank you 💜