Wintering: A Love Story

Suzannah Kolbeck
2 min readJan 20, 2024

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Out in the woods.

Baltimore hasn’t seen measurable snow since 2022, but this past week changed all that, with five+ inches coming down in two storms separated just days apart.

Heaven. Heaven to be shackled to a warm couch, a cozy blanket. Also heaven to be out in the stillness and quiet, the winter birds and squirrels uncovering what bright red berries remain.

I find myself in this season appropriately melancholy but also snugged deeply into myself. Wintering: using this season of hibernation to rest, meditate, replenish. As my friend Martha at Full Moon Acupuncture says, to use this time for discernment.

I can feel energy returning, even as I writhe at night in perimenopausal heat and strange dreams that wake me every few hours. I am closer to seeing what is right in front of me instead of the mirage, closer to finding the next path.

Part of my wintering is reconnecting with horses, dressing for the weather and getting out into it regardless of the forecast, getting more in touch with my body and the incredible things it can do, resting and napping without social media (although this story will find its way there). I am deciding what’s next creatively, taking stock, evaluating. Shoring up my community and letting others care for me with conversation, tea, company on silly errands.

I think this is the first time in my life I have been so deliberate in this practice of rest and retreat, and it’s opening me up to new experiences. Bold adventures. Caution to the wind. Feeling my strength return, at least on this day. Letting go while extending my hand. Life is still a grand, glorious, terrible, heartbreaking, joyful adventure — this is the only go-round we know of, and it’s best to make the most of it.

Right now, what I am doing with my one wild, precious life is observing, within and without, not pressing for the answer but asking questions and listening deeply. Seeking first to understand, though I still speak out of turn and feel stupid directly after. It’s a practice, not a perfect.

On this beautiful snowy day, I am present and grateful and only just a little bit angry and sad, which seems about right. I will apply wine and pizza and a movie and then The League of Lady Poisoners to my evening, and all will be well.

Do you rest? Do you allow yourself the gift of wintering? What does it look like for you?

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Suzannah Kolbeck
Suzannah Kolbeck

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