A Solstice pause

From the Winter Solstice to New Year, finding ways to bring light.

Hello, I’m Rachel. I write about nature and creativity to encourage connection and wellbeing. In these regular Create with Nature posts, I write about what I’ve noticed, created, and what I’m reading (and watching), all in tune with nature’s seasons.

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Hello, thank you for being here. So here we are, the winter pause. The winter Solstice in the Northern Hemisphere was astronomically at 3:27 this morning (22nd depending when you are reading this.) This is the time our ancestors - those of many cultures and religionsm - took to rest and celebrate the light, to honour it and believe it will return. The daylight doesn’t visibly lengthen until the 25th, and I learnt this week that original winter festivities lasted from the Solstice to New Years Eve - the original 12 days of celebration, before Christianity nudged it to start on the 25th. It’s not just one day. I don’t feel so bad about not getting up for sunrise now, plenty of time to celebrate.

Learning more about the Solstice and how nature and planetary alignments form the basis to these festivities have brought much more meaning to this time of year. I’m not Christian, I didn’t grow up in a Christian household, I only have interest in the bible stories as historical evidence, but we did do the celebrating - the evergreen foilage, the lights, the food, the coming together. So really, I’ve been celebrating the Solstice before I even knew what it really was.

I’ve needed a late December pause for many years. Working as a primary school teacher, I often arrived at the holidays in an exhausted, stressed mess, even though I enjoyed it all. My Christmas holidays were spent doing what I called Restmas - reading, doing art and spending time in the snow. Now with a chronic health condition, the same Restmas principles help.

I started drafting this post a few days ago and the tone was quite different. A combination of grey days, a bit of a flare-up in my own Long Covid-ME/CFS symptoms, health issues in close family members meant I was feeling a bit disconnected and anxious which then circled back round to affect my physical health.

So, I gathered my toolkit, got out the paints, the crochet, the Christmas novels, I did some nature noticing, the weather provided some literal light in the form of some sunny moments, I’ve had some lovely outings with friends and last night the sun set on the longest night, providing a beautiful sunset and something felt different.

Maybe these things will help you too? Hold in our hearts that all celebrations, particularly the winter ones are about light, about hope and renewal. Things we all need at the moment.

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Noticings

Winter is often seen as a time of rest in nature, of hibernation, of plants dying and trees standing still - as if everything is just waiting. And yes, to some extent it is, many people feel like that. It’s why people cheer so much at the thought of daylight lengthening after the Solstice. But much in nature needs that pause, and as humans are nature, maybe we need to take note and rest too. There is another way of looking at winter, which I was reminded of watching an old episode of Gardener’s World. That winter is the circle continuing to turn. For those green spring shoots to appear, the seeds need to dry and fall, the berries need to ripen and be dispersed. Some plants need the cold to enable them to grow.

And it is these details I’ve been noticing. Maybe it’s the tunnel vision you get from huddling within your hood in the rain, or when low cloud hides the wider landscape, but I think the small things jump out even more in the winter. Maybe our brains are looking to seek out any form of interest. Rather than the bright colours of Spring and Summer, it’s now about shape and texture. Look past the grey and brown, mud and soggyness to the sculptural details of teasel heads, so loved by Goldfinches. Delicate ghosts of umbellifer such as hogweed still stand in the verges.

Visiting a light trail at One Garden, in Stanmer Park, Brighton - they also recognised the sculptural power of the seedheads, adding lights for extra magic.

So, take a pause, whether in your garden, or take time for a walk in nature and notice Winter’s decorations.

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Creating

Over the last few weeks, I’ve been swishing away in my studio (aka the dining room and at the moment, the luxury of my parent’s actual studio). A few things have come together; inspiration from watching my favourite artist’s on youtube, the realisation of how to use my gelliprints and both watercolour and inks in painting and starting to use my green sketching (drawing outdoors on location) as the basis for work back home. I’ve talked about this before, but in the last few days, with dozens of paintings laid out around me, I am really liking what I’m doing and feel that I have found my artists voice, my way of creating, saying what I want to say.

Actually, I think the main thing is that I actually like a lot of what I’m doing. I’m feeling more confident about ways I’ve worked out to put paint on the paper - more often with a palette knife and old bank cards than brushes. I’ve learnt that less is often more and so when to stop and leave white paper.

And I want to share it. I know I put a lot of photos up here and on Instagram, but these are the first in a long time (aside from the few rockpool inspired paintings I did a couple of years ago) that I feel are en par with those of the ‘proper’ artists I follow. The dream that I might have a ‘proper’ exhibition, and sell my art to provide income feels a step closer. There’s still an insistent voice in my head telling me I’m being big headed, that they aren’t that good, but I’m trying to bat it away!

And so, here we are…

Reading so many posts about the light returning and a painting formed in my head. It then transformed itself going onto the paper from winter trees to the riverside grasses, but that’s creativity for you!

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Reading

A bit different this time, instead of book reviews, I want to share some of the Solstice words I’ve read.

Shortest Day

And so the Shortest Day came and the year died

And everywhere down the centuries of the snow-white world

Came people singing, dancing,

To drive the dark away.

They lighted candles in the winter trees;

They hung their homes with evergreen;

They burned beseeching fires all night long

To keep the year alive.

And when the new year’s sunshine blazed awake

They shouted, reveling.

Through all the frosty ages you can hear them

Echoing behind us—listen!

All the long echoes, sing the same delight,

This Shortest Day,

As promise wakens in the sleeping land:

They carol, feast, give thanks,

And dearly love their friends,

And hope for peace.

And now so do we, here, now,

This year and every year.

Welcome, Yule!

Susan Cooper

‘Twas the Night Before Yuletide

Twas the night before Yuletide and all through the glen
Not a creature was stirring, not a fox, not a hen.
A mantle of snow shone brightly that night
As it lay on the ground, reflecting moonlight.
The faeries were nestled all snug in their trees,
Unmindful of flurries and a chilly north breeze.
The elves and the gnomes were down in their burrows,
Sleeping like babes in their soft earthen furrows.
When low! The earth moved with a thunderous quake,
Causing chairs to fall over and dishes to break.
The Little Folk scrambled to get on their feet
Then raced to the river where they usually meet.
“What happened?” they wondered, they questioned, they probed,
As they shivered in night clothes, some bare-armed, some robed.
“What caused the earth’s shudder? What caused her to shiver?”
They all spoke at once as they stood by the river.
Then what to their wondering eyes should appear
But a shining gold light in the shape of a sphere.
It blinked and it twinkled, it winked like an eye,
Then it flew straight up and was lost in the sky.
Before they could murmur, before they could bustle,
There emerged from the crowd, with a swish and a rustle,
A stately old crone with her hand on a cane,
Resplendent in green with a flowing white mane.
As she passed by them the old crone’s perfume,
Smelling of meadows and flowers abloom,
Made each of the fey folk think of the spring
When the earth wakes from slumber and the birds start to sing.
“My name is Gaia,” the old crone proclaimed
in a voice that at once was both wild and tamed,
“I’ve come to remind you, for you seem to forget,
that Yule is the time of re-birth, and yet…”
“I see no hearth fires, hear no music, no bells,
The air isn’t filled with rich fragrant smells
Of baking and roasting, and simmering stews,
Of cider that’s mulled or other hot brews.”
“There aren’t any children at play in the snow,
Or houses lit up by candles’ glow.
Have you forgotten, my children, the fun
Of celebrating the rebirth of the sun?”
She looked at the fey folk, her eyes going round,
As they shuffled their feet and stared at the ground.
Then she smiled the smile that brings light to the day,
“Come, my children,” she said, “Let’s play.”
They gathered the mistletoe, gathered the holly,
Threw off the drab and drew on the jolly.
They lit a big bonfire, and they danced and they sang.
They brought out the bells and clapped when they rang.
They strung lights on the trees, and bows, oh so merry,
In colors of cranberry, bayberry, cherry.
They built giant snowmen and adorned them with hats,
Then surrounded them with snow birds, and snow cats and bats.
Then just before dawn, at the end of their fest,
Before they went homeward to seek out their rest,
The fey folk they gathered ‘round their favorite oak tree
And welcomed the sun ‘neath the tree’s finery.
They were just reaching home when it suddenly came,
The gold light returned like an arrow-shot flame.
It lit on the tree top where they could see from afar
The golden-like sphere turned into a star.
The old crone just smiled at the beautiful sight,

“Happy Yuletide, my children,” she whispered. “Good night.”

unknown, but generally attributed to C.C Williford

And finally, I hadn’t realised until it was played by Mary-Ann Hobbs on BBC6 music this morning, but this track from one of my favourite groups is also Solstice inspired.

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So, thank you for reading, especially having made it to the end.

I hope you too can find a Solstice Pause, whatever your beliefs or religion, this is about nature and the turning of the year.

Until next time, Solstice wishes to you all. See you next time.