It’s happening again; the piercing cold nights and the fleeting daylight. All is seemingly quiet in the natural world. Many of us feel pulled under by the pervasive feeling of loss and of mourning. Those balmy summer evenings and the vivacious dawn chorus feel a lifetime ago.
Winter is a difficult time for many people – it can take a physical and mental toll as we muddle through short days, struggling to get ourselves going in the morning, and flagging as darkness descends again in the late afternoon. But the natural world can help. Connecting with nature during winter helps us re-frame these treacherous months and maybe even helps us emerge with a greater appreciation of it.
Ways of thinking
There’s a lot we can reframe about winter to help us navigate it. For example, where one might think “these parks and fields are bereft of life”, explore a little longer. Look out for robins, flocks of chaffinches, and winter-flowering plants. Crucially, consider yourself as life.
If you look sadly at the bare, seemingly lifeless trees, consider another view: the trees are resting and conserving energy ready to be their best self when the time is right.
Winter can feel lifeless - but there’s plenty of life about. Including you!
You might think, “all I can see is death and decay” as you stare at the brown and grey leaves. But nothing really dies, not really. Leaves, insects, mammals – we’re all made of the same stuff. When things die, they break down into nutrients and minerals – just a different arrangement. The constituents of a dead leaf will feed its nearest tree. Death isn’t the end of life, it facilitates more life.
The darkness
We struggle with the darkness too. Days in December reach a paltry 7 hours and 50 minutes as we emerge from our beds in darkness and then finish work in darkness. The low light can have an impact on us physically as well as mentally – not least because the winter sun is less intense so isn’t as good a source of Vitamin D and serotonin. Vitamin D is useful for the maintenance of healthy joints and bones. A lack of both serotonin and vitamin D can also trigger depression and low mood.
There are several things we can learn from nature about low light. Firstly, trees and plants are exceptionally good at making the most out of sunlight. At a cellular level, most leaves are simply built to maximise energy generation from sunlight. And so nature reminds us to make the most of the great outdoors and life-giving sunlight during spring and summer (with adequate sun protection of course).
Secondly, the lack of light is an important trigger for swathes of the natural world, like trees and birds. It’s one of the best indicators that it’s time to rest. Time to stop. Time to hide away for a while and exercise self-care. Perhaps we should take Christmas a bit steadier this year?
The pervasive darkness can be hard during winter
Finally, it might be low light, but it’s not no light. As we’ve already touched upon, some plants happily flower during winter (after having spent summer and autumn preparing for it). And let’s not forget the moon! We can get lost in the gloom of the darkness, but pockets of light and life remain.
We think of winter as a cruel, harsh season. But some birds actually migrate to British shores from Scandinavia and Russia to benefit from our relatively milder weather. While, to us, it might feel cold and dark outside, for birds like redwings and fieldfares, it’s just right. And so, we can practise gratitude and humility.
Resilience
During winter, the natural world also teaches us about resilience and about the cyclical nature of life. Half way through the winter, as we emerge the other side of Christmas, fresh and verdant shoots burst forth from frozen leaf litter. These are snowdrops, and will soon be followed by winter aconites, lesser celandines and crocuses. It’s a new beginning, again.
You can look out for emerging winter and spring plants in parks, gardens, along hedgerows, verges and banks.
Crocuses peaking through the soil in my garden (taken Jan 2022)
Winter as necessary
A final point to consider is the function that winter serves as part of a complete year. Again, we can draw from the natural world here – in particular, plants.
By and large, plants are intrinsically connected with seasons. Their survival is often dependent on timing and they have adapted to carefully control and ration their energies as a result. Plants work on cycles.
Consider perennial plants, which grow leaves, flower, and then in winter die back to the base and become dormant, ready for spring. If they were to continue flowering, their energy stores would run out and they would die. The winter allows them to spring back, year after year.
Winter afford plants time to rest - which they need. Plus, it’s quite beautiful!
Also consider annual plants, which grow, flower, set seed and then die - all in one year. These plants rely on the setting of seeds in order to multiply, and many of these seeds need the winter in order to germinate.
Many seeds need a period of winter for one or both of two reasons: to soften their shells, and to give them a barometer for when it’s time to sprout. And so, winter is a necessary, important time. Even if it makes us vulnerable, it gives meaning and purpose to spring, summer and autumn.
A clarification
I have found, first hand, that nature connectedness can be an extremely effective way to combat a wide range of demons. When I write these articles, I’m keen to share the insight that I have gained and researched over the years and demonstrate how nature connectedness can work in real terms.
However, the process of healing and self-soothing in light of mental health struggles is not a straight line. I have come to believe that healing pursuits like therapy, medication, meditation, exercise, creative expression or – nature connectedness – individually, they may not necessarily be your complete solution. But they are components of a toolbox, and you can select which tool you need as and when you need it.
Connecting with and building a relationship with the natural world is a unique tool, because it is totally external to the human narrative, to human noise. It’s a way for us to draw from a community of life that has tried and tested survival techniques for millions of years.
This winter
If you’re struggling this winter, know that you’re not alone. In the hope that it might help, I leave you with a gentle nudge to consider the following: