A Winter Note
Dear Wild Ones....
The air again smells of rain instead of snow this December. The ground is soft, green, alive in a season that usually sleeps. It feels odd for Sweden, yet maybe time is quietly reshaping itself, calmly, like water finding a new path around unseen roots.
I’m still in the middle of renovations. The house is messy, half-finished, hopeful. Every wall carries dust from what was and promise of what’s coming. I’ve been thinking about how ideas move from the mind into the room. How they grow visible at their own pace. The colours, the light, the tiny details - they’re slowly catching up with the dreams that have already been living inside me.
December feels a lot like that. What we’ve carried all year begins to form edges. The need to slow down, to nest, to gather warmth, it’s not laziness, it’s nature breathing in before a new year exhales.
Stress often comes from forgetting we are part of this same rhythm. Trees don’t rush their sap back to the roots. Soil doesn’t demand the seed to sprout mid-winter. The body, too, asks for gentler movement when the light fades.
Allowing time to stretch isn’t idleness. It’s a return. When we loosen our grip, space appears, and in that space, healing, imagination, even clarity find their way. The more we align with this natural slowness, the steadier we become. Like the earth under green December grass - seemingly still, yet quietly reorganising life beneath.
The children wait with that bright stillness only they know. They are growing, grounding. The house hums with small sounds of life returning after long days of work and rebuilding.
This season, I want time to expand. I want to stay busy with soft hands; baking, stirring, placing candles in windows. Letting traditions of my multi-national family glow in the same room, each with its own kind of warmth. I want to play board games, lose track of my phone, and fill the air with the scent of something made by hand. I just want to continue being grateful for the small things we so often take for granted.
Maybe that’s what this time of year asks of us. To live in the space between doing and becoming. To trust that even rest moves something forward.
Wherever you are, I hope time feels generous to you. That it softens your pace. That it holds you like a room that has finally found its light.
Happy holidays, Wild Ones.
Classic Swedish saffron buns for Christmas
I love spending an evening baking Challah for the weekend
One of the few, but very beautiful, frosty days — how lucky I am to work and create in this garden
I believe the light from one of those candles, placed by soft hands into cold, clear…though rain dappled…window found its way, here, this early morning, providing much needed illumination to the grey-wet dim of current day.
There’s usually snow by now, in this part of the world, but Weather’s countenance has changed, making it difficult to recognize her eyes consistently.
In winter, they used to be bright and sparkling blue.
In spring, a deep-vibrancy of green.
Summer…golden!
Ancient fall, the deep-brown color of fallen chestnuts, cracked beautifully open from their spiky-green shells.
Now, grey…nebulous perhaps?
Still, no matter what chameleon of color they enchant, their windows look upon the gardens of this world, forever bright…with little, dancing, candle flames, placed by soft hands, to light the way.
ps-in winter’s cold throes, such a lovely blossoming of warmth within this frame!!-)
ps to ps-tis good to see your words and art again. They have been missed. Happy Holidays, to you as well.
Oh how I love your writing! It's so transportative (I'm not even sure that's a word!). It always resonates, transports and inspires. Curious if you bake challah because of religion or you just like it?