an ode to the winter season

why we chose my daughter's name

“How are you today?”

The woman pauses for a moment. Her shoulders sag as she sighs, “Heavy”. Then she catches herself, remembering her audience. "But fine, yes. Good. Looking forward to the new year.” Her lips quiver with exhaustion as she dons a half smile.

I chuckle. “It’s okay. You can be heavy. You don’t need to be good.”

Her shoulders drop again. This time in relief. The facade of a smile fades and she exhales deeply.

Perpetually curious about the human condition, and never one to tread lightly, I ask, “What’s heavy?”

The woman sets her bag down, marking our passing on this street corner as something more than a momentary hello. “How long do you have?” She shakes her head, “There’s just a lot that needs to be let go. A lot I’m holding, and grasping, that has simply become too much. And I’m… terrified to say goodbye, to release it all. People, mostly. Patterns. I need to end a lot, and… it’s heavy.”

“That sounds really hard.” The woman takes this as her cue, picking up her bag once more, she murmurs a word of gratitude, thanking me for listening.

An image arrives in my mind. This woman, stripped down, raw, and yet more alive than ever. I struggle to put words to this, and then they too land in my mouth, whole, as if dropped on my tongue by a poetic universe.

“Without the loss of leaves, the trees would not be so stunning against the sky.”

My daughter’s name is Winter.

People often ask why we bestowed her with that name. I have a number of different answers I give depending on the person.

“… there is beauty in the darkness, in the mystery.”
”… we love being cozied up by a warm fire. It feels like love.”
”… it’s our favourite season, we find something so beautiful in this fallow time of year.”

All of these are true. But when I take the time to truly ponder it, my real answer is this:

Winter is our greatest teacher. In a society that is besotted with the idea of perpetual summer, we have much to learn from winter. Winter teaches us how to slow down, to pause. It reminds us of the importance of community. It shows us how to stop running away and distract from all that is, and instead to simply be here now.

In so many ways, winter is the medicine our world needs.

So when people express concern that my daughter might be made fun of for her name or feel hurt when people say they hate the season, I don’t worry. Because my daughter will grow up knowing that in our family Winter is the most important season of all.

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What are your feelings about the winter season? What does this season bring up for you? What do you love? What do you struggle with? I’d love to know in the comments below.

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I imagine I will tell her a story of her name when she is old enough. As winter arrives, we will curl up under the blankets of her bed, Christmas lights glowing outside her window, and I’ll speak to her of the magic of things. Perhaps it will go something like this…

“Where we live, winter’s breath comes rarely, sighing her frosty exhale over the landscape. The miraculous spectacle of her white halls laid between the blades of grass appears only for a brief moment in time. But at this most magical time of year, the spirits of winter come alive, tucking the roots and shoots of the summer world into bed for the season.”

“But mama,” she might interrupt me. “What do the spirits of winter look like?”

“They are too small for our human eyes to see. Their clothes are made of hoar frost crystals. When you see the light from the sun reflecting off the cold ground you’ll know, a frost fairy!”

“And mama,” I imagine she might ask. “What do they do?”

“They remind us of the importance of rest. As frost blankets the ground, the spirits of winter quiet all the noise. They bring us the hush that comes with the frost and snow, to remind us of the beauty of silence. As the plants are trying to poke up new flowers, they race from bud to bud, painting them in frost, reminding them to slow down, to not bloom all year round. The spirits of winter keep us moving at exactly the pace nature intended.”

“So mama,” she might wonder. “Why am I called Winter?”

“Well, just like the spirits of winter, it’s up to you to remember it’s okay to move slow, to be present in each moment, without needing to rush anything. Like the spirits of winter, you’ll be kind and compassionate to others, reminding them that they are enough exactly as they already are. Perhaps, if you desire, you’ll help the world to remember that peace lives in the quiet moments, and that our true nature requires us to walk softly.”

I hope, she’ll smile and say “I love Winter”. Because I know I do.