A Recipe for Joy on Dark Winter Nights

In the early afternoon, start a batch of soup, or maybe a roast. Make it from scratch. 

Let it simmer on the stove, or braise in the oven, if that’s the route you went. 

At about 3:00, start to bundle yourself up for an afternoon walk. Put on your coziest sweater, your thickest socks. 

Go for your walk in the hour before the sun sets. Usually 3:30-4:30, or so. 

Take your dog, if you have one. Take your partner or kids if you have them. Bring yourself along too. Leave your headphones at home and listen to the birds and the cars and the wind instead of numbing yourself to everything around you. 

Look at the particular pale blue light that you only see this time of year, in this particular hour, when the days are this short. 

Admire the Christmas decorations your neighbors have put up, even if you don’t understand why inflatable dinosaurs are Christmas-y, because your neighbors love them.

Notice last season’s nests in the bare branches of the trees. 

Say hello to the dogs who bark at you through their windows, the cats that slip through the bushes. 

When you get back home, your nose pink with the chill, hang your coat up, and put your boots away. Put your slippers on. 

Turn on some music, something that makes your heart feel just a little bit more light. Light a candle. Or start a fire. Or light a candle that smells like a fire. 

Pour yourself a splash or red wine (if that’s your thing), or make yourself a mug of tea or cocoa. Savor it. 

Check your soup. Give it a stir, a taste, make any final adjustments. 

Set the table. Serve the soup, maybe with some cheese, some bread that you warmed up in the oven and spread thickly with salted butter. 

Eat. And enjoy. 

When you’re done, clean up, then grab a book, a movie, a show, that you love, and watch it with your full attention. Leave your phone in the other room. Tuck yourself under a blanket. 

Maybe make another mug of tea to hold so your hands stay toasty warm. 

Remind yourself that these long, dark nights are meant for sleeping, for resting, and let yourself enjoy that too. There is no need to fight it. Embrace the sacred pause that winter allows us to take. 

Repeat as often as possible.