In winter, we are called inside ...

 

      In the high summer, we want to be outside and active; in winter, we are called inside ... Winter is when I reorganise my bookshelves and read all the books I acquired in the previous year and failed to actually read. It is also the time when I reread beloved novels, for the pleasure of reacquainting myself with old friends. In summer, I want big splashy ideas and trashy page-turners, devoured while lounging in a garden chair or perching on one of the breakwaters on the beach. In winter, I want concepts to chew over in a pool of lamplight -- slow, spiritual reading, a reinforcement of the soul. Winter is a time for libraries, the muffled quiet of bookstacks and the scent of old pages and dust. In winter, I can spend hours in silent perusal of a half-understood concept or a detail of history. There is nowhere else to be, after all.
      Winter opens up time. ...

from Wintering: the power of rest and retreat in difficult times, 

by Katherine May