Every time I see adverts shouting “Black Friday”, a small voice in my head whispers, “Black Christmas.”
When did the peaceful, snow-covered white Christmas we used to dream about become the scramble through black muddy slush to reach bargains and hit deadlines?
Perhaps it’s time we reclaimed Christmas and made it something we actually want.
Can we leave behind the frenzy—the “must pick up a bargain” urgency—and remember that this is, at its heart, a season of peace and goodwill? This is not something we can wish just for others, it is something we can claim for ourselves as well.
Because while the media tells us to speed up, the natural world is gently encouraging us to slow down. Trees have dropped their leaves and drawn their energy back into their roots. Wildlife huddles for warmth, the days of frantic hunting over as they settle into winter’s quiet. At our heart level, we are part of the natural world.
The seasonal plants remind us of the season’s wisdom. The holly—last to bear its red berries—feeds the birds when little else does. The ivy works to its own rhythm: blossoming in autumn to the delight of bees, fruiting in winter when most plants sleep. (Spare a thought before cutting it back too soon!)
Nature is showing us what we so often forget: that winter is the time to slow our pace. To move into a gentle tick-over after the intensity of summer. The long nights invite rest. The short days ask us to draw close to the hearth, to reflect on the year gone by, to dream quietly about the year to come. This is the season for stories—family tales, memories of loved ones, and the seeds of future plans.
And as we settle into this stillness, we wait for something momentous: a sign from the sun that warmth will return.
Each year, at the solstice, the winter sun sets straight down my garden. It steadies itself there for a few days—as we hold our breath—before beginning the slow journey back along the horizon. Certain are we then of lengthening days, and a spring foretold. Even though astronomy can predict it to the second, it still feels poetically magical every year.
Watching those few still days around the solstice connects us to the great cycles of our solar system; the turning of planets, the movement of the constellations, the white moon sailing across a black winter sky.
This annual dance between Earth and Sun reminds us that we are part of something far larger than the errands and expectations that fill our calendars.
And in that dance, I find peace.
Blessings of this wintertide be with you.