Journal no. 5

Journal no. 5
Shedding Into Stillness

January always asks me to slow down. Not in a loud, goal-setting way—but in a quieter, more inward one. As the Year of the Snake comes to an end, I feel that familiar pull to shed. To loosen my grip on what feels heavy or rushed, and let the unnecessary fall away.

Lately, hygge has found me in the simplest rituals. Saturday mornings begin at Emmer, hands wrapped around warm croissants and fresh bread, steam still rising. There’s no urgency—just the pleasure of eating slowly, of bringing something beautiful home to be shared. These small traditions feel grounding, almost ceremonial.

The snow has been relentless this month, and instead of fighting it, I’ve been leaning in. Long walks wrapped in layers, the world muted and softened by white. The kind of cold that sharpens your breath and clears your thoughts. Coming back inside to a fire crackling in the kitchen, cheeks flushed, body grateful for warmth.

Even the practical moments have become part of the rhythm. Bundling up in cashmere to shovel our way out of another snowstorm—soft layers under heavy coats, warmth built piece by piece. Cashmere has always felt like a companion in winter, not precious but purposeful. Something to live in, to work in, to warm up in.

Evenings are slower now. Fires lit early. Books left open on the coffee table. Cosy cashmere pulled on without overthinking, mismatched and familiar. This is what shedding looks like to me—not loss, but space. Space to move gently. Space to notice. Space to rest.

January doesn’t need to be rushed. It’s meant to be embraced quietly, one warm layer at a time.

xx Alison