composting

you apply ice to a joint after an awkward fall. Why not do the same to a life?

Winter is a time of withdrawing from the world, maximising scant resources, carrying out acts of brutal efficiency and vanishing from sight; but that’s where the transformation occurs. Winter is not the death of the life cycle, but its crucible.

It’s a month for allowing half-baked ideas to stay half-baked for just a little longer, to remove the pressure of needing to make any concrete decisions about them, or making a plan for how to bring them into the world.

What’s the point in migrating to a warmer country for a couple of weeks to push winter away? It’s just delaying the inevitable. I want to winter in the cold, embrace the changes it brings, acclimatise.

Dead Week… is a week off from the forward-motion drive of the rest of the year. It is a time against ambition and against striving. Whatever we hoped to finish is either finished or it’s not going to happen this week, and all our successes and failures from the previous year are already tallied up. It’s too late for everything; Dead Week is the lux

In nature it’s more like we all get our day, our time. Nothing blooms 365 days of the year, someone told me that.