Wintering January 2026

This is the season of wintering

in nature, everything is resting, Trees have shed their leaves, conserving energy. Seeds lie tucked safely beneath the soil, waiting. Animals move less, sheltering from the cold, choosing rest over rush. There is no urgency here, no demand to bloom or perform. Just quiet, peaceful rest.

I think there is something very comforting about this time of year, even though January gets a bad press. Winter reminds us that not all growth is visible. Important things are happening beneath the surface, even when it looks like nothing much is going on at all.

In England especially, January has its own kind of beauty. The low winter sun casting long shadows across muddy fields. The soft grey skies that make colours feel gentler. The joy of spotting tiny signs of life — snowdrops pushing through, buds forming on bare branches,

This is the season for cosiness, for leaning into slowness rather than fighting it. Woolly jumpers, mugs warming cold hands, candles lit before the afternoon is quite over. It’s a time to work quietly, to make without pressure, to let ideas simmer rather than forcing them into shape.

In my own small business, January is about a small number of commissions. sketchbooks and scribbles, journalling and gentle planning. It’s about allowing space — for rest, for curiosity, for noticing what feels nourishing and what doesn’t anymore.

Wintering doesn’t mean stopping altogether. It means choosing care. Choosing what to carry forward and what to leave behind with last year’s fallen leaves.

If you’re feeling tired, unmotivated, or a little out of step right now, you’re not failing — you’re wintering. You’re doing exactly what nature does best at this time of year. Resting. Gathering strength. Preparing quietly for what will come next.

Spring will arrive in its own time. It always does.

Until then, may this January be gentle with you. May you find small comforts, slow moments, and the reassurance that even in stillness, something beautiful is unfolding