In December
Song cycles, signs of Christmas and a time for letting go
Last weekend found me in Malton in North Yorkshire, where there was snow on the high moors and the first signs of Christmas.
I was there to see the inaugural performance at the Ryedale Festival of The Longest Night, a community song cycle by John Barber and Hazel Gould, which was inspired by Wintering. Having sung in a lot of choirs in my time, I was thrilled when I learned that this was happening; even more so as I sat in the pews of St Peter’s Church on Sunday afternoon, watching the rehearsal. Wriggling children, nervous soloists, the loud whisper of a hundred people all standing at once: it was so deliciously familiar to me, so peaceful and present. I begged a copy of the music and read along, a kind of muscle memory. I never was much of a sight-reader, but I knew enough to locate myself, always.
I was nervous before I arrived: would I make everyone skittish by my mere presence? Would I be able to not interfere? In the event, it was easy to just enjoy the music, to immerse myself in something utterly lovely for a few hours. Your art has had babies, said my friend afterwards, when I was not sure how to put my delight into words. You’re an art grandmother now.
It’s so much easier to love your grand-art than your own art; from the distance of a generation, it seems miraculous that something can be so complete, so perfectly formed. It is related to me, but also not mine, and therefore I did not get to see its messier moments, its 2am wake-up calls and the days when it was inconsolable. I just got to see it turned out in its Sunday best, clean and tidy, well-behaved.
I loved it. I could get used to being an Art Granny.
I had only been home for a couple of days when I heard that another composition inspired by Wintering has been touring the UK. Composed by Samantha Fernando, and performed by the Manchester Collective and the Marian Consort, it’s an exploration of the quiet times in life. I was a bit taken aback when I realised it had been happening without my knowledge - it felt as though my genetic material had been running riot while I was safely at home, knitting - but I guess that’s what happens when your work takes on a life of its own. Winter, as I may have mentioned, is a time of letting go.
Laura Pashby shared this poem with me yesterday, new to me: Khalil Gibran’s On Children. These lines struck me as very true indeed:
Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
Lovely, isn’t it? And so true.
I think I might be joining a choir in the New Year.
Recent writing
(p) = paywalled - subscribe here to unlock all these lovely posts!
To the Lighthouse - a long read on my website
The Comments Section (p) - what does it mean to be a writer in an age of encroaching fog
Where Do Your Boundaries End? (p) - a journaling prompt to tease apart the balance of giving and withholding
My Letter From Love for Elizabeth Gilbert.
There’s a lovely excerpt from Wintering on Susan Cain’s newsletter, The Quiet Life.
Over in the Substack Chat, our members have been sharing their latest creative projects (p). So many great things to discover here, including two people hopefully meeting on the Camino Portugues. We are avidly awaiting the photos!
We’re nearly through our Modern Nature readalong - but don’t worry, there’s plenty of time to catch up, and we’re not very strict anyway! Here’s the introduction, some thoughts on Derek Jarman’s love of apothecary’s herbals (p), and a live recording (p)of me and Rebecca Armstrong talking through the themes of the book, and our responses. There’s more to come, but let us know how you’re getting on with your reading!
And don’t forget - anyone taking part in the readalong by leaving a comment on any post will be entered into a prize draw to win a selection of Derek Jarman’s books, kindly provided by Vintage.
Finally, a couple of past wintery guides that may be relevant to your interests right now: The Art of Hibernation and How To Light the Dark Months.
Coming Up
A gentle advent calendar
Over on WhatsApp, I’ll be posting a reading a day from my favourite wintry books until 24th December. It’s free for anyone who’d like to listen along, and will hopefully be a soothing counterpart to the December rush. You can join here, or scan the QR code below.
Our next group read
January’s readalong will be Sound of a Wild Snail Eating by Elisabeth Tova Bailey - a luscious exploration of one woman’s attention as she endures a debilitating illness. This is a life-affirming read that will turn you into a snail nerd. Read all about it here on The Marginalian.
Just an early warning to order your copy!
December’s online retreat
The next online retreat is on Saturday 13th December, 4pm - 7pm UK time (check your local time here).
Making Ready
This season’s retreat is a slow walk towards midwinter, exploring the quiet days between the solstice and New Year, and what they mean to us. Drawing on poetry, guided meditations, journaling prompts and creative exercises, we’ll retreat together to prepare our minds and bodies, and to dream of how we’d like to walk through this time.
About my online retreats
The Retreat Tier is an extra layer of membership on my Substack that unlocks four online retreats a year, one for each season.
We’ll be making some changes in the New Year, so new memberships are currently suspended*. However, if you’ve been unable to renew - or if you’d like to try out a retreat for the first time - you can make a one-off booking here.
*Fear not! It will still exist - I’m just working on delivering it in a better way.
December Essentials
Long blustery walks on sunny days. I’m considering buying some earmuffs.
The Mushroom Tapes. Yes, it’s an exploration of a true crime, but this conversation between three women captures the experience of sitting in a courtroom, trying to understand the person on trial. I was hooked.
This Winter Cup recipe. All the delicious flavours of mulled wine, but without the alcohol and therefore the instant headache. It uses tea and pomegranate juice to retain the tartness and tannic edge.
The Golden Spurtle. This documentary about the quirky people who compete each year in the World Porridge Making Championships is a soothing delight. If you don’t crave a bowl of oatmeal after this, you never will.
A range of pens inspired by Peanuts. I want the Sally pen please!
The golden hare from Kit Williams’ Masquerade is up for sale at Sotheby’s. I was obsessed with this as a child, and am possibly even more obsessed now. (No idea what I’m talking about?)
Nigel Slater’s Christmas cake recipe, every year, without fail.
Mabli socks, woven to look like Welsh tapestry. I have a few pairs already, but have my eye on the Forest Festival colourway right now.
Elizabeth Haidle’s Tarot for All Ages, a well-tempered deck full of swirling rainbows and gentle encouragement.
Lucy Wright’s Dusking 2025 video - haunting in all the right ways; silly in all the right ways too. Did you Dusk this year?
Dreaming of clocking off for Christmas
Take care,
Katherine
