The quiet work of Winter

 

Winter has always been misunderstood.

She’s called bleak, barren, bitter. But I’ve learned—winter doesn’t shout. She whispers.

While the world turns inward and the trees stand bare, winter is working.

Roots go deeper. The ground rests. What’s invisible is not inactive.

That’s how it feels right now.

Outside, life looks quiet. No dramatic movement, no fireworks of progress. But inside—inside, something is shifting.

I can feel the slow, steady undoing. The breaking down of what no longer serves. The composting of old dreams into fertile soil.

This is the winter of my becoming.

Not dramatic. Not loud. But real.

I’m learning to sit with stillness. To trust the slow. To let the silence teach me something the noise never could.

Not everything blooms in spring.

Some of the most sacred changes happen in winter—when no one is watching.

So if you don’t see much happening- just know, I am becoming! Quietly, Deeply and on Purpose!

Did something here speak to you?

Leave a comment if you feel moved, or simply sit with me in quiet.

If you’d like to walk this road with me, follow Nomadic Grandmother for new stories.

— x Elsabe