Hello book lovers! Welcome to this season’s gathering of curious minds and heartfelt reads. A few of us celebrants dove into Wintering by Katherine May—a thoughtful non-fiction piece that sparked some big conversations. If you’ve had a chance to read it, I’d love to hear what you think. Share your reflections, start a discussion, or just let me know what stuck with you most.
This book felt like a gentle exhale. One of those rare reads that makes you want to slow down, light a candle, and stare thoughtfully out a rainy window.
Wintering by Katherine May was a quiet hit with the group — thoughtful, soothing, and layered with beautiful insights. Nearly everyone connected with it in some way, although a few members noted that timing really is everything. If you’re currently thriving and life is humming along, this one might feel a bit… muted. But if you’ve been through a rough patch (or you’re in one), it hits differently. It feels like a friend sitting beside you on the couch, saying, “It’s okay to be here.”
What is Wintering, anyway?
Katherine May uses the metaphor of winter not just as a season, but as a state of being — those times in life when we feel lost, sidelined, or stripped back by grief, illness, burnout, or transition. Rather than something to fight or rush through, she invites us to winter well — to rest, reflect, and let the quiet reshape us.
We loved her reminder that wintering isn’t a failure. It’s a cycle we all pass through, and it’s necessary. Just like the trees lose their leaves, we, too, need stillness to prepare for regrowth.
One of the most freeing ideas in Wintering was the suggestion that we’re not meant to live in a constant state of “summer” — always blooming, achieving, and producing. Katherine May invites us to consider that the quieter, slower seasons of life have value too. Maybe the pause is just as vital as the push.
Her reflections on society’s discomfort with vulnerability really struck a chord. We’re often conditioned to mask our struggles, to keep the hard stuff hidden. But what if we shared our winters — the tough seasons — a little more openly? There’s power and connection in acknowledging the hard bits instead of pretending they don’t exist.
May’s personal story added so much depth to the book. Growing up with undiagnosed autism and facing depression at seventeen, she’s not just writing from a place of theory — she’s lived it. As someone who is also neurodivergent, her words resonated in a way that felt both personal and validating.
And finally, her emphasis on grounding rituals was beautiful in its simplicity. Cold water swims, lighting a fire, baking bread — small acts that become anchors in the chaos. It was a lovely reminder that comfort doesn’t have to be big or dramatic. Sometimes, the quiet things carry the most weight.
Reading Wintering by Katherine May really made me reflect on the quieter, more tender seasons of life—and how important it is to honour them, both in myself and in the people I work with as a celebrant.
As celebrants, we’re often invited into people’s most significant transitions—marriage, birth, death, grief, healing. What Wintering reminded me is that these “in-between” moments, where things slow down or feel uncertain, are not problems to fix or rush through. They’re sacred. They deserve space.
May’s gentle message about surrendering to winter, rather than resisting it, encouraged me to lean more deeply into creating ceremony that makes room for all of it: the joy, the pain, the waiting, the becoming. It affirmed for me that sometimes the most powerful thing we can offer is not a solution or a celebration, but a safe and soulful pause—a place for people to feel held exactly where they are.
So yes—this book helped me reimagine ceremony not just as a celebration of milestones, but as a meaningful way to witness and hold space for wintering too.
5/5— especially if you or someone you love is in a season of pause, loss, or recalibration. This book is gentle, insightful, and beautifully written. It’s not a “fix it” book. It’s a “be in it” book. And sometimes, that’s exactly what we need.
If life is all sunshine for you right now, maybe keep this one on the shelf for a future season. But for many of us, this book felt like a warm blanket and a cup of tea for the soul.
How many stars would you give this book?
The book inspired something special: a new group tradition. We’re now doing an annual winter ocean swim at Bar Beach. A bit bonkers? Yes. But there’s something beautifully symbolic about plunging into cold water to feel alive — a nod to our own winterings and a shared sense of renewal.
If you enjoyed this review, you might like to check out some of the other books I’ve covered too!
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