stars in the belly of winter


There is something so old about a winter's morning. Rather than rising, the sunlight seems to have always been there, and only revealed by night's parting. And there is such a blessing in the cold. It holds us with sharp fingers, but not cruelly, more like a reminder to wrap ourselves in softness, comfort, warmth. I love to watch my breath go like candlesmoke through the dimness. I love to feel the wild mother's bare presence so close.

The silence before a story comes is like a winter to me. Everywhere I look, the world seems barren and ragged. I find no ease. But deep within, a tiny seed like a white star will be growing, word upon image upon trust. I try to remember that the reading and pin browsing I do in this silent time is about nourishing that seed with aesthetics and ideas. Not every one will go into its making - most will supply the environment in which it grows. If I try to avoid this wintering, I only create something rootless.

As polar winds bring star-coloured cold to my town this morning, I hunker down under a blanket and get on with the work that is now budding and coiling through me after my own season of silence. The work itself is a surprise - but then, who ever knows what might grow from self-seeded wishes in the dark?

art by helen stratton


  1. mmm, stay warm, and best wishes for the writing!

  2. Such Beauty, Sarah... your words, the images... They are gentle balm for my overtired, deeply aching body... Thank you xx

  3. It is summer in my part of the world. With scorching heat it is harsh and depressing. I am so much waiting for rains. Winters are pleasant and peaceful here. I love soulful winter nights.
    I adore your writing!

  4. your words always produce such calm. & I always I see something beautiful here, so thank you.

    have a lovely day.

    p.s., your link at the footer about cookies, sadly not the edible kind you can eat through the computer screen, has extra semicolon to the link which produces an error, just being nosy



In the quiet hours, the inbetween moments and the half-light, I sometimes like to write. My books are made from fairytale shadow and old magical songs. They speak about dreams, lost wishes, longing for something beyond the self, and always about love. You can learn about them here.

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