Wintering in the Quiet: A January Reflection
"Winter is the sacred balance of rejuvenation and life in preparation for the coming spring. It represents abundance, teaching and gratitude."
The Beauty of a North Florida Freeze
Our first freeze arrived on the first day of 2026 in North Florida.
I woke to frost stretched across all eleven acres, the land shimmering in that quiet, temporary way that only cold mornings can manage. It was beautiful. Even more so because there was absolutely nothing pulling me out of the warmth of our home. No urgency. No obligations. Just stillness.
I love the changing seasons. When I lived in Miami, I missed them deeply. While I don’t have snow here, I do get four very distinct seasons: spring, hurricane season, fall, and now this gentle North Florida version of winter. It isn’t dramatic. It doesn’t scream. It simply arrives and asks you to notice.
Slowing the Farm and the Pace of Life
This year, we intentionally worked to bring the farm into a more efficient rhythm. Projects that had lingered for far too long are finally wrapped up, with only a couple left to knock out. That work has paid dividends far beyond organization.
It has allowed us to move slower. Much slower.
For the first time in a long while, life doesn’t feel like it’s lurching forward without my consent. The pace has softened, and I’ve noticed how deeply my body and mind have been craving that softness.
Wintering Isn’t Quitting. It’s Preparing.
Not long ago, I read Wintering by Katherine May, and it feels less like a book and more like permission. Permission to recognize that this season of my life is quiet, and that quiet is not failure.
Scrolling through my feeds, I can’t help but notice how many people are talking about slow living. It feels as though, collectively, we are wintering. Tired. Reflective. Ready for something gentler.
Wintering doesn’t mean shriveling up or giving up. It means trusting that rest precedes growth.
Learning to Rest When You Were Never Taught How
Slowing down has never come naturally to me.
I was raised in a home where hard work was the highest virtue. Long hours. Constant motion. Forward momentum at all costs. Rest only arrived when illness forced it. I never saw it modeled, so I never learned it.
I don’t fault my parents. They came from a different time. They married young. They fought hard for everything they built. I adored my mother, but her body carried the weight of constant motion until it simply couldn’t anymore. My father still struggles to rest, even now, when rest is not optional but essential.
Watching that has changed me.
Busy Isn’t Healthy
I don’t want busy anymore.
Busy clutters the mind. Busy fills calendars but leaves the soul unsettled. Busy keeps you moving so fast you forget where you put your keys and what you were even chasing in the first place.
Health is what I’m after now. Real health. The kind that comes from nervous systems being allowed to exhale.
Wintering as Care, Not Retreat
This wintering season looks like conscious eating, less sugar, more water, and sleep that actually restores. It looks like giving my body time to rebuild from years of running at a pace it never asked for.
It also looks like grace.
I’m reevaluating my relationship with social media. While I treasure genuine connections, the endless scroll has lost its appeal. In its absence, I’ve returned to reading, to thinking deeply again, to feeling my own intelligence wake back up.
As January settles in, I’m not rushing toward resolutions. I’m honoring what this season is asking of me.
To rest.
To listen.
To winter.
Growth will come. For now, this quiet is enough.