January Is Still Winter

A few days after New Year, shortly before I go back to work, Christmas comes down in our house.

And there is quite a lot of Christmas to take down. Eight trees. Decorations throughout the house. Lights.

Everything goes back into its boxes and up to the attic. Then I clean. Properly.

After weeks of Christmas abundance, I absolutely love the moment when everything suddenly feels clean, calm and spacious again.

But clean doesn't have to mean cold.

When the Christmas decorations come down, the house doesn't suddenly need to pretend it's March.

Winter is still outside. It's dark early. It's cold. We still need warm lighting, blankets, candles and comforting food.

Remove Santa. Remove the baubles.

But keep the warmth.

Your winter home can be quieter than your Christmas home without becoming an empty version of it.

December is indulgent, so January must apparently be corrective.

No.

Of course January can be a useful moment to look at your finances, your diary, your house and the practical bits of life that need attention.

But there's a difference between putting your life back in order and putting yourself on trial for December.

Sometimes you need to look at your finances. Sort your diary. Deal with something you've been putting off.

Make a coffee. Put some music on. Get it done. Then go back to your life.

Organisation should create room for living. It shouldn't become the thing you're living for.

January evenings are not summer evenings.

Use the lamps. Light the candle. Make something warm. Read. Watch something comforting. Put a blanket over yourself.

The goal isn't to make every January evening an event.

We walk in the woods a lot during the Christmas break. Winter walks are one of the easiest ways to enjoy this season rather than merely tolerate it.

Winter is a season of contrast.

Cold and warm. Dark and light. Outside and home.

Christmas gives us weeks of anticipation. Then January arrives and suddenly the next thing we're apparently allowed to look forward to is spring.

Add a few markers. A dinner somewhere. A Sunday roast. A new book. A film. A day somewhere. A completely unremarkable Saturday with no plans.

Anticipation still works after Christmas.

If we spend January waiting for February, and February waiting for March, we've essentially wished away two months of our lives.

Romanticising winter isn't denying bad weather.

It's noticing what the season gives you while you're already in it.

December is a lot. I love it. But it's a lot.

January doesn't need to compete.

The house is cleaner. The diary can be quieter. The food can be simpler. The evenings can be slower.

January doesn't need more magic. It needs a different kind of magic.

If the house feels a little bare after Christmas comes down, don't immediately start filling it again.

Maybe a beautiful candle. A stack of books. A blanket where you actually use it.

You're not decorating for another holiday. You're simply acknowledging the season.

January is very good Sunday-roast territory.

Something in the oven. Something bubbling. Something that makes the house smell good for hours.

Just notice the things that are particularly good right now.

You don't have to wake up on 1 January as a person who suddenly runs at 5am, drinks something green and has strong opinions about meal-prep containers.

You can still be you. Perhaps with a cleaner house. Perhaps with a few things organised.

A new year can be a new chapter without requiring a new main character.