As winter solstice arrived, so it seems did the winter weather. Relentless grey skies, rain, cold temperatures, and strong winds have dominated. We rarely get frost here, and even less chance of snow. I can count on one hand the number of frosty mornings we have had so far this winter, and it feels the same for the number of bright, sunny days. At times, sadness has lingered due to the general gloominess. Being outside, breathing in the fresh air, and being present with the landscape really helps lift my spirits.
January can feel like a long, looming month, especially after the busyness of December. It feels quiet, sometimes lonely, with miserable weather more often than not. Nature offers solace, something outside of ourselves to focus on, and be grateful for. I love going to the beach, in all weather conditions, to hear the seagulls calling, smell the salty tang of seaweed in the air, feel the sea spray coating the skin, and simply spend time being present, watching the sunrise and listening to the rhythmic lullaby of the waves. So simple, yet so soothing. Embrace those sunny days, feel the warmth of the sun on your face, spring clean the house, let the fresh air in, and the old air out. Sow some vegetable seeds (currently I've sown a variety of salad leaf seeds), enjoy the quietness, and reflect on the past year. I've bought a moon journal this year, interested in how the lunar cycles may affect my mood, and it’s also just fun to follow each moon cycle.
Inspired by Beth Kempton, I've been thinking about what walking means to me. Especially in winter, walking outside is truly a salvation. Wrapping up in many layers, with winter boots laced up, walking allows you to go outside, breathe in the fresh air, explore the environment, feel the earth beneath your feet, and it provides a sense of purpose to winter. Usually, it’s a month that I wish would hurry up and be over with, feeling desperate and frustrated for spring to arrive. This season, I have leaned into winter; resting, sleeping, going outside most days, keeping activities mainly low energy-based, and haven’t pressured myself to be constantly productive. Gentle, winter walks amongst the bare landscape has been wonderfully enjoyable, noticing the exposed skeletal contours of the land. I feel grateful to be safe enough to walk solo, have free reign and be physically able to walk. Whether that is on soft, spongy moss-covered land, wet, slippery, mud-covered footpaths, springy pine-needle blanketed ground, shifting sand and shingle, or harsh, uneven rocky coast paths. I love wearing minimalist shoes to feel the ground beneath my feet, experiencing its texture more closely, and to connect with the earth.
Even though I was working, I had time on Christmas day to spend an hour walking slowly and mindfully amongst the fine drizzly fog. There was so much moisture in the air that water droplets coated every surface, creating a dazzling display of nature's own fairy lights as the muted light reflected off the droplets at a certain angle. It felt magically atmospheric being immersed into a wintry wonderland. I took a photo of what I thought looked like a white rainbow, thinking maybe it was a fog bow or cloud bow, and it turns out it is a real phenomenon! It could have been so easy to be disheartened by the drab weather and not bothered going out, but making the effort meant I got to experience so much.
I had the day to myself on boxing day. The weather was still foggy, the air laden with moisture. Inspired by the walk the previous day, I headed out on a different part of the coast path, wondering what I might observe. The sea appeared crystal clear, with stunning tones of blues and aquamarine. A foggy mysterious landscape indeed, the veil began to lift slightly, and for a brief five minutes, full sunshine with blue skies appeared, casting a warm, bright, golden light over the landscape. A whisper of the warmth of summer. Before I knew it, the blanket of fog enveloped the land once again. The land of its own weather system living up to its reputation. I headed to the ‘waterfall’ location to see if it was flowing - it's where the natural spring water falls off the cliff edge. A gentle trickle falls to the sea below. I marvel at the crystal clear beautiful water, and enjoy the relaxing sound of the waterfall, taking a moment to fully appreciate the surroundings.
My original plans for winter solstice didn't pan out due to the poor weather conditions, but an opportunity arose a couple of days later. I parked the car and walked along the road in darkness, guided by the starry sky. It was totally, wonderfully silent. It had been a long while since I last walked on my own in complete darkness. I arrived at Durdle Door in plenty of time, so I sat away from the already gathering crowds to drink my flask of tea, listen to the waves, and watch the moonlight reflect on the surface of the sea.
More and more people arrived, waiting for the magical moment. Slowly, the sun peeped above the horizon, and a collective wow was heard. Inevitably, everyone clamoured to get a photograph. It was an amazing bucket-list moment, having wanted to see it for so many years, but either poor weather conditions or having to work has previously prevented it from happening. Unfortunately, the selfishness, grumpiness, and impatience of most of the photographers there ruined the moment somewhat, but I tried to stay present in the moment and not let it affect me. I also collected a bag full of litter, leaving behind what I couldn't manage to fit in the bag. It was so sad and disheartening that such a popular, beautiful location is ruined by the carelessness of humanity. Even so, it was a special, memorable morning and a highlight of winter.
The strong winds once again returned. It's New Year's Eve now. As I walked through the small wood, I could hear the roar of the waves. Getting changed into my swimsuit, I felt a bit nervous of the huge waves. I carefully waded into the water and stood firmly, as wave after wave hits me with full force. I decide not to even attempt a swim, especially as no-one else was around. Instead, I enjoy the freezing cold waves rejuvenating my soul, making sure I stay within depth so as not to get drawn out to sea by the incredible force of the undertow. Cold-water swimming is exhilirating, invigorating and life-affirming, however I never forget to respect the water and my own limits.
On New Year's Day, the wind was still gusting strongly. I headed out with many layers on: hat, gloves, snood, and boots in preparation to enjoy an exposed walk along the coast path. As I stopped to take some photos, a black dot catches my eye. Was it a rock, a seal, or maybe a person? Surely not a person, as it's not an easily accessible location. I take my phone camera out so I can zoom in a bit, and yes sure enough, it's a person! Intrigued, I continue watching them, only to realise they are surfing! Relieved that it's not someone in danger, I stand and watch this skilled individual who clearly knows what they are doing, and are celebrating the New Year in style.
Standing still watching the lone surfer, something else catches my awareness: Hundreds of seagulls floating on the water. I'm assuming the rough water brought some fish to the surface, and the gulls were feeding on them.
Ravens are so alluring. I'm not sure what the one in the video was doing, maybe this is it's nesting site?
Recently, I've noticed a heron a few times before sunrise on the small breakwater. It's been exciting, anticipating whether it will be there or not. Such quiet, elegant, intriguing creatures. I was interested to read that herons are seen as symbols of nobility, patience, wisdom and good judgement. A lucky omen for the day ahead. Having these small moments of connection really helps ground you, tie you to place, and provides a sense of meaning. This is particularly pertinent during the long darkness of winter.
Light in winter is so scarce, so precious and so valuable, that any chance to spend outdoors should be seized to lift our spirits and hopes. Winter light, with its low-lying trajectory, casts a unique and captivating glow over the landscape. Somehow, it appears more brilliant and pure. I've been searching for the right word to describe winter light, and then it struck me: Clarity. The clarity of winter light is simply breathtaking. The coldness and bleakness of the landscape are somehow enhanced by the winter sunshine.
A theme this winter has been seeking and embracing the light in all forms, whether that is cosy candles, twinkling fairy lights, vibrant sunrises or sunsets, brilliant sunshine on a crisp, cold day, it has all added light within.
Bird-watching has become a recent interest of mine. It forces me to slow down, be patient, and quiet, to wait and see what appears. The grey heron, the turnstones, my first oystercatcher sighting on my home patch, crows, ravens, seagulls, black redstart, pigeons, stonechat, and of course robins, have all been part of my winter this year. I’m captivated by their sounds, their graceful flight, and their fascinating behaviours. I never knew magpies could talk, or that pigeons can recognise their own reflection! Bird-watching has added a new dimension to my appreciation for the landscape, previously having taken that the birds are there for granted. It’s so sad to learn of huge declines in bird populations, and
wrote a great post on it. My dad kindly gave me his old pair of binoculars, so I'm eager to try them out.
The cold, biting wind chills my cheeks and fingertips as my feet shift on the shingle. I carefully and mindfully walk across the beach, collecting a bag of washed-up litter along the way. The waves pound the shore with immense force, and fine plumes of sea spray drift across the shingle bank onto the main road, reminding people of its presence. I am a small dot amidst this vast landscape, country, and planet, here for such a brief moment in time. Yet the cliffs, pebbles, and sea will remain, wave after wave, sunrise after sunrise, storm after storm. Gratitude fills my heart for having the freedom to explore and the love to appreciate and marvel at the land.
A moment of calm. A chance to breathe and relax.
This month I read Solo by Jenny Tough.
“It's no-ones job but yours to be your own cheerleader, to show up for yourself every day and believe you can do it”.
“You know deep down what your strengths are, but being brave enough to show them to the world is the trick”.
I really enjoyed this book with these two messages being the main takeaways. We can do anything we set our minds to, if we just believe in ourselves. If we don't, then who else truly will? With this in mind, taking inspiration from
, I have chosen a word to focus on this year. That word is ‘Empowered’. It will be the theme of the year in all aspects.
January is nearing its end, small glimmers of spring are appearing. Snowdrops, daffodils and primroses are all starting to be in bloom. The colour is returning.
Slowly, slowly the year begins.
How is winter so far, for you this year?
What do you prioritise for your own self-care? Not every day is hugely productive, or full of joy and happiness, it is about learning how to weather the seasons of life.
Thank-you so much for reading.
If you wanted to support my work, I have a buy me a coffee link here.
Hayley, your posts are like a step into another place - I absolutely love your writing, but alongside your photos and videos it is a portal to a magical place. Thank you.
Dear Haley, thank you so much for this beautiful post with the most gorgeous pictures! I deeply enjoyed following your walks. I love your observations and the thoughts you are sharing. And your pictures are just stunning! Reading your post just now made me feel calmer and more in tune with nature. It came at the perfect moment! Thank you! ❤️ Looking forward to many more of your beautiful posts!