The Rest That Winter Brings

We all need rest. Winter’s yearly occurrence is the reminder of this that we all need

Photo by Timothy Eberly on Unsplash

The leaves have all but fallen off the trees and the butterflies and bees no longer fill the air. The flowers of mid-summer have rotted away, and a dull monotone grey dominates the sky. Winter, (or is it death?) is approaching. The temperatures drop, the vibrancy of summer and autumn fades, and the nights get longer and longer. Darkness descends and rules over the day.

Darkness, decay, and death. For those attuned to the natural world, these are some of the words winter evokes. It is a month of hardship: from the struggles of keeping warm in biting winds, to the carnage and chaos a heavy snowfall can bring, winter brings challenges that make the heatwaves of summer seem tame. For those most exposed to the elements, the challenge of winter is one of life and death. Making it safely through to spring requires skill, endurance, and careful preparation. But sadly, many of the elderly, weak, and those caught ill-prepared, (both human and beast) will perish in this the most unforgiving of seasons.

However, there is a different way of looking at winter — a much more optimistic view. For although winter does indeed bring death for some, and darkness for all, this very same darkness like sleep, can bring us rest¹ — the rest that field, beast and man all require after the frantic activity of summer. Although many of us may wish winter was over as soon as it has begun, we need winter and its yearly presence is not futile.

For the summer has indeed been a frantic time. Our fields have worked hard over the spring and summer to yield richly for us in the harvest-time. Their soils have provided the nutrition that fed our crops and cattle, and their surfaces now bear the scars of machine, plough, and beast. Winter allows the fields a few months of rest, healing, and replenishment before the next burst of growth come springtime. Likewise, the farmer. Harvest time is the busiest and most stressful time of the year; by the sweat of his brow are the crops now in the barn and the cattle in their pens. His body is aching from the labour he has given to bring forth life and nutrition from these fields, and his energy is spent. As one farmer’s wife wryly commented to Adrian Bell: “We never really enjoy the summer here — there's not the time.”² Winter allows time for the farmer to slow down, to fix what is broken, and to take stock. He must remember that he is a limited being, in need of rest and recuperation just as much as his fields and flocks, so that come the spring, he can again pour forth his life and energy into these fields to bring forth from them our daily bread.

The birds in the hedgerows and trees of the farm are also in need of a rest. Summer has been spent in the labour-intensive activity of raising the next generation. For some species, spring and summer have consisted of day after day of relentless feeding of many hungry and demanding mouths. Come the autumn and winter, many of these species have flown south to bask in the hot tropical sun with abundant food. Those that are left take life at a slower pace — but not as slow as hedgehogs and bats who take the ultimate rest of all — hibernation.