Winter Solstice: Turning Toward Light

The winter solstice has always felt to me like a natural pause point in the year. A time of reflection and gratitude. There’s no sudden shift for the solstice, just the same thin light at dawn, and the same earlier sink into evening. And yet it feels as if the light is turning, ever so slightly. As I left the workshop tonight, I noticed a faint glow in the west, the smallest sign that days will soon begin to lengthen again.

Walking over the Downs in these late days of the year, the chalk paths weave through a landscape that has all but receded into itself. It speaks in muted tones. Bare branches hold against the grey sky.

There is a pared-back clarity here; nothing abundant, but nothing wanting either. This feels like the work of winter, to slow us down, to reduce things to what is necessary, to let the smaller details come into focus.

I think about people more at this time of year too, with a sense of gratitude that fills up when the year nears its close. There are friends who have offered time, advice, or a spare moment when one was needed. And there are customers who chose to bring a piece of Pilgrim House into their homes. That choice means more than I can say, sitting somewhere between pride and simple thankfulness.

Although I enjoy burning a yule log to mark the occasion, there’s no great ceremony here for the solstice. No gathering or ritual. And that feels right.

Wishing you a season of warmth, stillness, and those quiet moments that steady the soul.