The familiarity of a midwestern spring is something that will never leave me. There is an odd, teasing warmth and mysterious lack of chill. While buds aren’t visible yet, it’s as if you can feel the branches of trees stretching in the air and seeds germinating underground.
Midwestern spring is something I’ve felt every winter since we moved to California in 2012.
Despite living in four very different cities each with their own microclimates, every California winter I’ve experienced has more days like a midwestern spring than any actual winter I grew up in.
It invigorates me and saddens me at the same time.
I love winter. I like being cold. I like adding layers of warmth instead of wiping away dripping, sticky sweat.
Just this year, I’ve been introduced to winter as a verb. Wintering.
Slides about its importance have filtered through my Instagram Stories. And the idea was explored in terms of business on one of my favorite podcasts, Style and Substance, which I listened to just a few days ago.
So while I do miss cold weather and a chance of flakes, perhaps it’s missing out on the act of wintering that’s the real problem. Maybe it’s the sitting, waiting, resting because you can’t go out even if you want to that I miss.
There is little to stop us here in this part of the country from plowing ahead the same way we do the other 11 months of the year. It’s taken me until now to realize just how this state of easily doing, this weather that encourages one to be out, impacts me.
I do remember how hard it was growing up in Indiana, then living in Kentucky. I remember how we’d beg for February to be over, the many days of dangerous ice versus beautiful snow, and how I’d excitedly plant something in March and hard frost would come kill it all.
But the wintering that comes with winter? I still miss it.
There is good in knowing that kale and Brussels sprouts are doing quite well in my January garden and that there is sunshine to uplift the mood. But I don’t crave new starts in January, I crave rest. I crave wintering. And everything inside me tries to create it. It would just be a whole lot easier with a dusting of snow.
As I do my best to winter in the place I’ve landed, I’ve been thinking on My Three Words for this year. In doing so, I also realized that I spent the entire year of 2024 never revisiting last year’s words. I don’t plan to let that happen again.
Choosing three words is a process I adopted from Chris Brogan and, oddly enough, started in 2012 just before we moved to California.
Here’s where my year is headed. And I’ve followed up with all my words from previous years.
2025 - Out. Permission. Close.
Out. As in I’m tuning it all. The blinders are on. The bad, along with what is supposedly perceived as good, is all getting tuned out. Weight loss nonsense, ridiculous fitness moves, aging tips, wrinkle prevention, guilt of privilege, big unattainable goals, step-by-step plans, listening to a right or wrong way to do things - I’m taking a break from you. The idea that I need to be anyone other than I am at this moment or do things in a way other than how I would do them - out. I’m tuning out all the thoughts and opinions of others and doing my own thing. Wish me luck.
Permission. As in I’ll stop asking for it. Even when we don’t think we are waiting for someone to approve of our idea or like our plans, we are. I’ve been impacted greatly by the words of writers such as Emma Gannon and by books such as Ina Garten’s memoir (bookshop.org affiliate link). I spend a lot of time waiting for permission. Maybe not verbally asking for permission or opinions if what I’m doing is right or okay, but it always seems to be something I’m wondering about. It holds me back. This year I realize I don’t need permission. From anyone. Just do and stop creating reasons not to.
Close. I’ve spent many years staying open - focusing on doing anything and everything. While I still approach 2025 with an openness to new opportunities, it’s also time to close. There are many things that I’m ready to move on from and I plan to close some doors this year.
As I review this list and compare it to previous years, it’s tempting to see it as a bit negative. Really, it’s more about simplifying. I’ve grown in so many ways and I’m ready to sit in that for a while. Quiet down, get smaller, narrow my focus. 2025 doesn’t feel like a year of abundance and growth for me, it feels more like a year of reflection and pause. We’ll see how it goes.
2024 - Waves. Value. Satisfy.
2023 - Rest. Return. Accept.
2022 - Change. Want. Relax.
2021 - Release. Return. Build.
2020 - Freedom. Act. Give.
2019 - Focus. Freedom. Flexibility.
2018 - Open. Productivity. Free.
2017 - Less. Renew. Wander.
2016 - Stronger. Do. Reflect.
2015 - Sustain. Reach. Separate.
2014 - Recreate. Plunge. Pause.
2013 – Be. Create. Grow.
2012 – Progress. Learn. Honor.
Have your own words or word for the year? I’d love to hear about it. Leave me a comment.
I absolutely love wintering. I crave it every year, but I never had a name for it. Thank you for sharing this. Also, I love your three words. As I was reading this newsletter I was shouting, yes!