The Wheel of the Year: Yule Sun, 21 Dec 2025 – Thu, 1 Jan 2026
or Alban Arthan, the Winter Solstice
Everything feels damp at the moment. Not depressingly so, not yet. Just properly, deeply damp. The sort that seeps in and stays put. Damp that makes anyone with arthritis consider emigrating to Australia.
Rais Wood is full of it. Damp, slippery leaves underfoot. Mud that clings to everything. Patches of mould furring up anything wooden, the rustic benches, the log store, the tool shed. Making everything feel just a little bit grim. Fallen limbs soften back into the ground. Nothing crisp. Nothing clean. Just slow rot and slow return. I am waiting for real cold. For hard ground and sparkling frost, icy breath and frozen puddles.
This weekend is the solstice. The longest night and the shortest day. The point in the year with the least available light to make my solar panels even vaguely useful. It feels like there is not much to work with right now, in the wood or in me.
The sun does show up occasionally, but usually when I am driving, low and sideways, flickering in my side vision like badly placed strobe lights. Technically, the sun is shining, just not helpfully.
Yule arrives in the midst of this damp, mould and mud. In the bit where everything drops back and stops performing. When the car is constantly filthy and the roads are endless brown slush. The light does turn, even if it is hard to spot. For now, this is a low point, and that’s ok. I accept that.
With my last craft fair now done and the next one not until 4th January, I plan to rest. To hibernate. To eat comfort food, although I have already fattened up enough to see me through the harshest of Siberian winters. The festive season is upon us, and with it, the tradition of gorging on treats, spending time with family and friends, and realising it is perfectly acceptable to slurp mulled wine at eleven in the morning. (As long as the birds are fed and my houseplants are all happy). So I wish you rest, relaxation and roaring fires.
Blessings from me to you and yours this yuletide.
Joanne.
x
If you’ve ever heard someone say “I’m a Rowan” or “I’m an Oak” and wondered what on earth they were talking about, it might have been the Celtic Tree Zodiac. It’s a modern system that links tree species to lunar months.
It isn’t an ancient Druidic practice, though it often gets shared as if it is. The version most people refer to today comes from Robert Graves’ 1948 book The White Goddess, where he connected the Ogham alphabet (an early Irish script with tree associations) to a lunar calendar.
For those of us who feel drawn to trees or want to mark time in more seasonal, nature-based ways, it provides a focus for us to explore each month, as well as great inspiration for my pendants.
Once the 2025 craft fayres were done, my sewing machine and I got busy creating a giant “utility belt” for the stall, which will hopefully enable better organisation, give me more space on the table and reduce the time it takes to set up – Test run on 4th Jan in Dorking!
The Forest bathing audiobook is underway! Hopefully out by the end of the year on Audible – let me know if you would like a free Audible access code to add the book to your Audible library when it is released. I will have 25 to give away.
In the meantime, for a shorter read, why not check out some of my blog posts.
In an attempt to switch back from doom-scrolling to actual book reading at night, I’ve recently joined the local village book club. A great way to read books I wouldn’t normally pick up and interesting to hear other people’s take on the same book.
The variety of “scores” has been a real surprise, as has the difference in my sleep patterns. I have a way to go yet before I can leave my phone downstairs at night time, but small steps.
The Half Moon, Warninglid – One of the few remaining traditional English country pubs; family run, dog-friendly, dating back to the 18th century and serving amazing seasonal and locally sourced food.
The fireplaces are lit, the snug is cosy and the owners and staff are incredibly welcoming. Just book in advance and check the opening times, no one wants a long winter walk to end at a pub that’s not open!
If you don’t have access to a woodland for a campfire gathering with friends this weekend, here are my favourite alternatives;
- Somewhere ancient – Stone circles, hill forts, old churches. People have been noticing the solstice here for thousands of years. Go walk in their footsteps at sunrise or sunset and witness the turning of the wheel.
- A wintery river or coastline – There’s nothing quite so bracing as a wild and windy seafront in winter. The sun might be pausing at the lowest point, but the water certainly keeps moving.
- A cosy pub/café with a view – Hot drink, fat pasty, a window to stare out at short, low sun. If you can find one with a roaring open fire, so much the better.
- A woodland nature reserve – Not much to see at the moment, but listen in stillness; Robins sing their hearts out, and Tawny owls call into the darkness, which is already falling over the woods by tea time.
- Your kitchen – Mulled wine before noon, Sunday roast in the oven, watching the birds at their feeder and checking the houseplants. Comfort and achievement all rolled into one.
So until Imbolc 2026, blessings from Rais wood. Stay warm, stay safe and enjoy the festive season; mud, mould and all!
Joanne
x
