-Guest Post by Alex Howson
January can feel like a strange time. Half the world seems ready to sprint into the new year, armed with resolutions and meticulous plans. The other half wants to crawl under a blanket and wait for spring.
But there’s a third possibility that often gets overlooked: the quiet practice of care. Not optimizing, not transforming, just tending to yourself and your days with small, intentional acts that make winter feel more inhabitable.
The Scots have a word for our Pacific Northwest winter weather: dreich. It means gray, dreary, persistent. It evokes the kind of damp cold that seeps into everything. Ironically, today’s weather is crisp, clear, and bright. But it’s still winter. The gray will likely return, and you can’t sunshine your way through dreich weather. You have to meet it with something equally persistent: warmth you create for yourself, again and again.
This is where ritual comes in.
Rituals are different from habits
A habit is something you do automatically, like brushing your teeth, locking the door, and checking your phone. A ritual is something you do with intention. It carries meaning. It marks a moment as mattering.
In winter, when the days merge together in sameness and gray, rituals can become tiny anchors that give shape to time. They offer something to return to when all seems heavy or uncertain.
You probably already have rituals, even if you don’t call them that.
Morning rituals are sacred to me: I journal, read, meditate, and drink tea (Scottish blend, loose-leaf!) inside that peaceful space before the rest of the household stirs. This time isn’t about productivity or self-improvement. It’s about meeting myself before I meet the demands of the day.
Maybe your rituals involve coffee and the news. Maybe it’s lighting a candle before dinner. Maybe it’s the way you arrange your pillows before bed. These little gestures of care—repeated, intentional—create a warmth that has nothing to do with temperature.
Three winter rituals to try
If you’re looking to create more intentional warmth this January, here are three practices to consider:
Morning Landing
Before you check your phone or open your laptop, give yourself 10 minutes of quiet. This could be:
- Slowly drinking a cup of tea or coffee
- Just sitting still, or looking out the window without doing anything else
- Gentle stretching or breathing
- Writing a few lines in a journal or notebook
This ritual isn’t about what you do. It’s about beginning your day by choosing to be present before being productive.
Hands Busy, Mind Settled
There’s something sincerely soothing about activities where your hands are occupied, but your mind can rest. Consider:
- Knitting or crochet (often called “meditation with yarn”)—grab supplies from Quintessential Knits in Duvall, or settle in with Rachel Matthews’ sweet book, The Mindfulness in Knitting.
- Drawing or doodling
- Kneading bread
- Working on a puzzle
These aren’t distractions. They’re a way to stay active while remaining calm. Your nervous system settles when you have something repetitive and tactile to focus on.
Reading for Companionship
Winter invites us to read books that mirror the season—not to escape it, but to feel less alone in it. You might choose books that feel like sitting with a wise friend who understands that some seasons ask more of us than others. We can also choose to read not to learn or improve, but simply to be accompanied through the dark months.
Grab one of these books about winter from the library or from Snoqualmie’s Books & Bottles to remind yourself that resting is natural and necessary. Snuggle up with a blanket in your favorite book nook.
Katherine May. Wintering: The Power of Rest and Retreat in Difficult Times.
Val McDermid. Winter: The Story of a Season
Horatio Clare. The Light in the Dark: A Winter Journal.
Permission to be seasonal
One of the deepest forms of care we can offer ourselves is to stop pretending we’re the same person in January that we are in July. We’re not. And that’s exactly as it should be.
Winter asks us to conserve, to turn inward, to move more slowly. Rituals honor that rhythm instead of fighting it.
You don’t need elaborate practices, expensive candles, or fancy tea. You don’t need to create something Instagram-worthy. You just need to notice what makes winter feel a little more tender, a little more held, and then do that thing again tomorrow.
Tiny acts of care, repeated with intention, create the kind of snugness that carries you through.
-Snoqualmie-based medical writer and yoga teacher Alex Howson, PhD, draws on decades of experience in health education, medical writing, and yoga. Alex explores practical, evidence-based ways to support physical, emotional, and mental well-being through the many seasons of life. Each column blends accessible science, grounded storytelling, and simple tools for building steadiness, resilience, and long-term health in a changing world. You can find Alex on Facebook, Instagram, Linked In and on her website https://www.alexhowson.com/.
