Tag: comfort

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A Calm Christmas: Comfort and Joy in Winter

This December, I’m slowly making my way through Calm Christmas and a Happy New Year by Beth Kempton (2019), and in Chapter 3, she presents ways to seek comfort and joy in winter by seeking our natural rhythms and learning from nature.

She shares her experience searching for deer with her father when she was nine years old, hoping to capture photographs of them at dawn when all the rest of the world was still sleeping. Through this experience, she is certain that she finds her spirit animal and holds to the belief that the fallow fawn shares secrets that lead to discovery and strength, even still through the memories she made that day.

Another reflection she shares is her rhythm of childhood winters, with such predictability that there is great comfort in the daily routines and patterns of familiarity – getting dressed by the heater, pressing her nose against the window of the toy store, eating porridge each morning, caroling, bedtime stories. What can seem humdrum has roots of dependability in the knowing that things are the way they are and taking a deep sense of certainty in the simple, mundane living of days.

Kempson writes in Chapter 3, “At this time of year, it’s natural to slow down, prune our lives of extraneous details, reflect on past events, and tend our hearts, minds, and bodies so we are ready to flourish again.” There’s a quietness to the process. To contemplate our winter rhythms, Kempton encourages us to find a still, quiet place and think about what brings us comfort and joy at this time of year, and throws in a glimmering question to chew on: what would radical winter wellness look like for you?

Radical winter wellness – what a concept! At first thought, a cup of steaming hot tea with local honey and fresh lemon come rushing to mind. Long walks with the dogs across the farm, breathing plenty of fresh air deep into the lungs seems like ultimate wellness also, along with simmering soups chock full of fresh vegetables with bright orange carrots just right. Zesty navel oranges and cinnamon oatmeal with brown sugar, and quiet moments of reading by the fire all proclaim wellness, too.

And radical wellness for the mind. That is found in a stack of delightful reading and a crossword puzzle – and I’ve ordered a calendar with them so I have a short puzzle each day to chew on – – a mini crossword like a small piece of chocolate from a candy jar – just enough to satisfy. Just enough to bring comfort and peace.

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Spiritual Journey – December 2024


Scrolling in search of the next book to read on an upcoming flight, my right thumb becoming numb, I came to a screeching halt on Wintering: The Power of Rest and Retreat in Difficult Times by Katherine May.  

This, I nodded approvingly to myself, thinking of all the exhausting change that 2024 has brought.  This may be just the medicine my soul needs right now.

Many of the changes life has brought throughout the year are positive ones, but even good change requires a period of adjustment.  The not-so-good changes, even more so.  

I clicked the Kindle sample download and examined the Table of Contents, organized in chapters by the seven cold months of the year starting in October and ending in Late March.  I read the reviews on Goodreads and delved into the sample text, asking at each decision point whether this would be the best investment of my time and cognitive energy – since both are forever fleeting.

After finishing the sample, I knew this was the book for me.  I downloaded the full book.

I realize I’ve struck book gold when I find a book that has me hanging on each sentence, savoring its power and meaning as I apply it to my life and feel the peace it brings.  Each thought, it seems, fits like a glove when I’ve found the right book for the right time.  It’s like a medicinal salve, like Candy Cane chapstick on parched lips whipped sick by the wind.  

All at once, my breathing deepens and my heart slows from its racing pace.  I feel my tongue stop pressing against the roof of my mouth in its usual stress-pressure position.  My shoulders drop and my neck muscles loosen.  I read May’s soothing words as I consider the approaching winter break: 

“Winter is when I reorganize my bookshelves and read all the books I acquired in the previous year and failed to actually read. It is also the time when I reread beloved novels, for the pleasure of reacquainting myself with old friends….In winter, I want concepts to chew over in a pool of lamplight—slow, spiritual reading, a reinforcement of the soul. Winter is a time for libraries, the muffled quiet of book stacks and the scent of old pages and dust. In winter, I can spend hours in silent pursuit of a half-understood concept or a detail of history. There is nowhere else to be, after all.”

And in this, I can rest with full hope and anticipation that the gas logs and my heated throw will bring needed warmth.  My dogs will bring peace and deep comfort as they vie for snoozing position next to me, and my books will bring the golden silence and space my heart needs as I sip a cup of honeyed hot tea and reread: …. there is nowhere else to be, after all.  

My next book will be Calm Christmas by Beth Kempton. What will you be reading, dear friend, in the sweet, snug nook of home, in the nestled bliss of nowhere else to be?

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Please link your blog posts in the comments below, and thank you for reading today!

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Hygge Pantoum – Stafford Challenge Day 14

Photo by Ioana Motoc on Pexels.com

Today’s Pantoum poem celebrates warmth and comfort in these cold, wintry days leading up to mid-winter. I have a little faith in our southern groundhog, so I’m holding out some hope for a thick blanketing of snow to keep us home for a few days, snuggled fireside with books and dogs, before warming up and staying warm so the peaches will survive. Georgia lost 90% of its crop last year to a late freeze, and what few I was able to find locally cost a fortune and ended up in Mason jars as preserves so we could enjoy them all winter.

For today, though, there is hot tea with honey ~ and so begins my poem. Stay warm, friends.

Hygge Pantoum

chamomile tea with honey
warm blankets, heated throw
sherpa slippers (ears of bunny)
beeswax candle's ambient glow

warm blankets, heated throw
heavy quilts of rag-stitched flannel
beeswax candle's ambient glow
flickering shadows on the mantel

heavy quilts of rag-stitched flannel
heirloom warmth of hand-stitched hugs
flickering shadows on the mantel
cotton-braided oval rugs

heirloom warmth of hand-stitched hugs
sherpa slippers (ears of bunny)
cotton-braided oval rugs
chamomile tea with honey

Special thanks to Twowritingteachers at Slice of Life for giving writers space and inspiration!

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Surgery Day – A Visit from Her Mimi

Throughout her life, my mother loved birds. Songbirds, water birds, and birds of prey. She could spot a hawk from a mile off, as if she’d had some inner sensor alerting her to their presence.

My brother Ken and I often share pictures of hawks when they manifest themselves to us, especially on significant dates – birthdays, holidays, or times of concern. We often mention that we saw Mom sitting on a wire by the highway making sure our seatbelts were fastened and our doors were locked.

My children often share how much she meant to them – taking them to Dairy Queen for Cotton Candy Blizzards, making strawberry figs in the kitchen, taking walks along the beach. They called her Mimi.

Imagine the deep feeling of comfort when my daughter and I were leaving for the hospital from our hotel this morning and noticed, resting on the wire directly above the car, a hawk – seeing us off, assuring us that her spirit was right here with us in these tense moments of anticipating surgery. A tonsillectomy is rough surgery for an adult, but Mom’s spirit affirmed for us that we are on the way to better days ahead.

I’d parked the car with her guidance the night before. That inner voice told me, arriving after dark, to park near a light – not on the back side of the building, as had been suggested by hotel staff at check-in. I followed that voice. She is always steering me in all the right ways, right down to parking the car for safety and so she’d have a wire for a better morning greeting.

Even brief appearances and signs bring deep comfort to us! Mom knew how much this hello from Heaven would mean to us.

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A Hygge November

A few years ago, I began reading more about the Danish concept of hygge and learning about the ways to create comfort – at home and in life. Ambient candlelight, toasty socks, hearty meals of soups and stews, warmth of fireplaces, soothing sounds of music, and coziness of blankets and sweaters. The enjoyment sitting by the fire with the dogs as I write and sip hot tea. These small measures of comfort go a long way in self-care.

One author who brings all the feels of hygge is Gladys Taber. This morning, I read about November long ago from her book Stillmeadow Sampler, published in 1950. This book was a gift from my father last Christmas, and is signed by Eugenia Price in 1977 as a gift to Lady Jane.

Below, I share an excerpt:

Now, toward the end of November, rain falls steadily and it is a chilling rain. The bare branches look black and the browns in the meadows are deepened. The pond’s level rises and we can hear the water pouring over the dam and on into George’s brook. The small-paned windows of the house are a wash of silver. The lamps go on early in the day.

When we go out to do the chores, the air smells of wet fallen leaves. It is a curious musty smell, but pleasant. Jill brings in an apple log from the woodpile and the fire burns brightly. The Cockers and the Irish doze on the warm hearth. It’s a good time to have Brunswick Stew, that delectable combination of chicken, tomatoes, lima beans and corn simmered with seasonings in the old iron soup kettle.

When the rain finally ends, usually at dusk, the whole world looks polished. The horizon has a rosy glow. The air is like vintage wine, properly cooled. When we open the door, the dogs rush out and dash around the house. Rain’s over, rain’s over, they say, barking happily. Inside, with the rose-colored light coming in the windows, the house takes on new life. The milk glass gleams, the brass and copper shine. And the soup kettle is ready to be lifted from the crane, the popovers are hot.

“Next thing we know,” says Jill, dishing up the stew, “it will be snowing.”

I glance over at my dogs, deep in a morning snooze, and glimpse my mother’s rippled swiss dot milk glass on the kitchen counter. I think of her recipe for E-Z Brunswick Stew, and I take it from the recipe box to share with you today. Though Mom is no longer here with us, her legacy lives on through her recipes and memories.

This is hygge in its finest form.

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Reflections on a Slice of Pumpkin Bread with Coffee

“Today, make discovering those joyful simplicities that bring you personal comfort and a sense of well-being one of your highest priorities.” – Sarah Ban Breathnach, Simple Abundance: A Daybook of Comfort and Joy

Pumpkin Bread from Christmas 2022

At my bridal shower in 1985 given by the ladies of First Baptist Church of St. Simons Island, Georgia, I received a lot of cookbooks and tried-and-true recipe cards. The ladies in that church who had practically helped raise me were tremendous cooks, and I was over-the-moon thrilled to have a coveted collection of the recipes that gave me an inkling of hope of being like them in the kitchen.

Over the years, from the beginning of my young married life through raising children and even through divorce and remarriage, one recipe was an instant hit and remains a family favorite through it all. I make it only during the Thanksgiving and Christmas holidays to keep it sacred and anticipated. When I visited one of our daughters who lives 6 hours away for Christmas 2022, she had already told many of her friends, “I hope my mom brings her pumpkin bread.” When she introduced me to them, I wasn’t surprised to hear that my pumpkin bread reputation had preceded me!

Times shared together when everyone has gathered during the carefree, unrushed holidays around a table or in small sitting areas with coffee and conversation, where candles flicker and the clinking of forks on tiny plates adds to the joy of togetherness against the backdrop of a football game on TV, where children play games and watch a parade, where family news is being shared and good books are being discussed and political views are not~ ~ ~ that’s pumpkin bread season. For anyone who pursues the Danish concept of hygge, pumpkin bread is at the top of the list. It works its comforting magic and hits the spot!

Today, I share the recipe for the pumpkin bread that has been our tradition for nearly 40 years. I’ll also add that it freezes well. Sometimes I split the loaf into two large loaves, but sometimes I make mini loaves so that my husband can take one to work for breakfast each day throughout the week. I fill pans about 2/3 full so that it gives room to rise, and I adjust my baking times for size. When there is one tiny bit of uncooked dough in the top of the rise, I remove it from the oven and allow it to finish cooking in its own heat during the cooling process. If freezing, I wrap in foil and place in a Ziploc bag once cooled.

Recipe for Pumpkin Bread II from the cookbook Frederica Fare:

One of my daughters likes her pumpkin bread with whipped cream cheese spread between two slices.