Walking the walk

Taking my own advice

I had big plans for this newsletter this year.

A full calendar of my usual every-other-week posts, full of topics that I was excited to write about and that I think you would have loved. I have a document full of slush pile links and pictures and videos.

But at the end of my pregnancy, my body forced me to do less; I could only do so much in a given day. Should I exercise? Do a podcast interview? Prep the baby’s room? Sleep and sleep and sleep because apparently soon I would never sleep again?

And then my winter baby arrived, 12 days early and right on time, on January 21st - the day the sun returns in Tromsø after the Polar Night.

And so now it’s time for me to take my own advice: I will be slowing down, unplugging, embracing the things I can’t control and leaning in to my current season, which I can already feel will be fleeting.

We are bundling up our cozy boy, letting him sleep snugly by an open window in late winter and swaddling him in wool and taking him for walks in the crisp fresh air, much to the loving concern of his four stellar grandparents and two wonderful great grandparents.

I would have loved another few weeks to write some more Wintry Mixes, to do some more How to Winter interviews. I spent the first 10 hours of early labor in utter denial. But now I have no choice but to accept and embrace; it feels wonderful to do so. It’s a great time to be hibernating in babyland. And I’m even getting a smidge of sleep.

If you need more help embracing winter this year, why not revisit some Wintry Mixes from years past? There’s also a plethora of media available online: a quick Google will yield radio and podcast interviews and articles galore. Here’s a fun recent one.

And perhaps now is a good time to remind you that I have a book for you - one that I think is more useful than ever now, at the tail-end of winter and during a difficult season in the world at large. How to Winter is available in a US version, a UK version, and in Dutch.

The other good news is, I’ll be back. Winter comes every year.

Stay cozy,

Kari