In her book Wintering, Katherine May reframes winter as a necessary pause—an interval of rest, retreat, and recalibration. She writes about winter both literally and metaphorically: the seasons in our lives when energy wanes, routines fall apart, and we’re asked to pull inward rather than push forward. These moments, she argues, aren’t failures of momentum—they’re invitations to tend to ourselves more carefully.
What makes Wintering so resonant is its insistence that rest isn’t passive. Retreat can be active, even fertile. In slowing down, May discovers new forms of nourishment: warmth, ritual, reflection, and the restoration that comes from honoring where you are rather than resisting it. Winter, in this sense, becomes a season of subtle transformation—not loud or visible, but deeply restorative, shaping what comes next.
A Guide to Romanticizing Your Winter
Romanticizing winter begins here. Not in pretending the season is easy or endlessly cozy, but in choosing to meet it with intention. Through small rituals, comforting routines, and a gentler approach to wellness, winter can become a time of self-tending—one that allows for recovery, softness, and renewal beneath the surface. The ideas that follow are rooted in that philosophy: simple ways to make winter feel more livable, more meaningful, and supportive as you move through it.
What It Means to Romanticize Winter
When I talk about romanticizing winter, I’m not talking about forcing myself to love the season or pretending it feels good all the time. For me, it’s about adjusting expectations—recognizing that winter asks something different of us and responding with care rather than resistance.
In winter, I stop expecting myself to operate at full capacity. I plan fewer social commitments, simplify my routines, and prioritize rest without negotiating it. That doesn’t mean opting out of life—it means moving through it with a little more softness and a lot less pressure to optimize.
Romanticizing winter also means paying attention to the small things that make the season more livable: a warm drink that anchors the morning, going to bed earlier without guilt, choosing familiar meals over ambitious ones, and letting my home feel comforting instead of demanding. It’s all about leaning into the small decisions that add up.
At its core, romanticizing winter is about meeting yourself where you are. Some days that looks like leaning into comfort. Other days, it looks like simply getting through. Both count.
Small Rituals That Support Winter Wellness
Winter wellness works best when it’s simple, repeatable, and low-effort. These are the rituals I return to when energy is limited, and consistency matters more than intensity.
- Start the day with something warm. I love choosing a go-to drink, and preparing and enjoying it slowly. It’s a small, sensory-based moment that helps me transition into the day.
- Create a buffer before screens. Even 15 minutes before checking your phone can lower stress and set a calmer tone.
- Rely on repeat breakfasts and lunches. Fewer food decisions make winter mornings easier. I love these nourishing winter recipes.
- Lower lights earlier in the evening. Lamps and softer lighting cue your body to wind down.
- Choose supportive movement. Walks, stretching, and shorter workouts all count.
- Go to bed earlier—every night. Winter isn’t the season to fight fatigue.
These rituals are meant to support you on days when energy is low. Because when the basics are taken care of, everything else feels more doable.
Cozy Winter Routines That Support Your Everyday
When winter feels heavy, I’ve learned that comfort is all about setting things up so daily life requires less effort. These routines focus on your home, your body, and your evenings, making winter easier to navigate without relying on motivation.
1. Make your bedroom a priority space. Winter nights are long, so your bedroom should feel like a haven. Fresh sheets, softer lighting, and a comfortable temperature will make your nighttime wind-down a non-negotiable.
2. Keep blankets within reach. Drape a throw over the couch, a chair, or the end of the bed so warmth is always easy to access. Convenience matters—if it’s nearby, you’ll use it.
3. Light candles in the early evening. As soon as the sun goes down, lighting a candle helps mark the transition from day to night. It’s a small habit that instantly softens a space.
4. Prep your mornings the night before. Laying out clothes, setting the coffee maker, or prepping breakfast reduces friction when mornings feel darker and slower.
5. Keep something warm on the stove or in the oven. Soup simmering, vegetables roasting, or bread warming—heat in the kitchen adds comfort even before you sit down to eat.
6. Limit evening plans on purpose. It’s okay to protect your energy in winter. Fewer commitments leave more room for rest, recovery, and unstructured time at home.
7. Create a simple nightly reset. Tidy the kitchen, straighten the couch, or clear one surface before bed.
8. Let your home be “good enough.” Winter isn’t the season for perfection. A livable, comfortable space matters more than a styled one.
Finding Beauty in the Slower Season
Winter doesn’t always feel beautiful on the surface. Days are shorter, energy is lower, and the pace of life can feel unfamiliar—especially if you’re used to measuring your days by output. I’ve found that, in the winter, beauty shows up quietly, and usually when I stop rushing past it. These small shifts help me notice it more often.
1. Let go of the urge to make winter productive. When I stop treating winter like a holding pattern and allow it to be slower, I feel less resistance and more ease.
2. Notice what repeats—and let that be comforting. The same breakfast. The same walk. The same evening routine. Repetition can feel grounding in winter, especially when everything else feels uncertain.
3. Choose fewer inputs. Less noise, fewer commitments, simpler plans. Winter feels more manageable when I’m intentional about what I let in.
4. Find beauty in tending to yourself. Resting when you’re tired. Eating when you’re hungry. Staying home when you need to. These choices are practical acts of care.
5. Allow your energy to fluctuate without judgment. Some days will feel balanced—others won’t. I’ve learned not to read too much into either.
6. Notice small comforts and let them count. Because beauty doesn’t need to be impressive to matter.
7. Stop waiting for the season to end before enjoying it. It’s easy to put life on hold until spring. I’ve found that winter feels longer when I’m wishing it away—and lighter when I engage with it as it is.
8. Let quiet moments exist without filling them. Not every pause needs a purpose. Sometimes sitting, noticing, or doing very little is enough.
9. Trust that this season is doing something for you. Even when it’s uncomfortable, winter has a way of restoring what’s been depleted. You don’t have to force growth—it’s often happening quietly in the background.
An Invitation to Winter Well
Winter doesn’t need to be transformed to be meaningful. Sometimes, the most supportive thing you can do is meet the season as it is—with fewer expectations, more care, and a willingness to rest when rest is needed. Romanticizing winter doesn’t mean making it perfect. It’s about creating small pockets of ease and warmth that help you move through the months feeling held.
If there’s an invitation here, it’s a simple one: let winter be a time of tending. Choose the rituals and routines that make your days feel a little softer, and let the rest go. Spring will come when it’s ready. Until then, it’s enough to take care of yourself where you are.
Discussion about this post