Wintering Traditions: A Human Thing
Driving across the darkened Northwoods landscape, the bright spark of Christmas lights livens the gloom. Evergreens glow through picture windows facing the road, twinkling with their ornaments. Wreaths on doors, garlands on rails—all work to add some cheer amidst the short days, long nights, and chill. It feels especially necessary this year, with the lack of snow to brighten the darkness and help us feel festive for the season.
Decorating for wintertime is old—older than Christmas. Wreaths reminded the people of the turning circle of the year and offered hope in the promise that green would return. People lit candles, built fires, and now string lights to push away the edges of the darkness. So whether you celebrate Christmas, Yule, Hanukkah, Solstice, or many of the other holidays of the season, the decorating is all reaching back towards the same roots—a human need to bring joy, hope, and festivity amidst the darkest time of the year.
The pineal body, located deep within the brain, pays attention to day length and regulates sleep patterns through the release of melatonin. For my chickens, who have a very powerful pineal body, when the sun goes down, they go to sleep. Nocturnal chickens don’t exist. In order to have any eggs laid in wintertime, I have to fool their little brains by leaving lights on in the coop, so they think the day is longer. When I bring the chickens in from their mobile summer houses in late autumn, it takes about two weeks of “light therapy” for their pineal bodies to catch on to the transition and for the eggs to start appearing in the nesting boxes once more.
Our own brains have a similar process in winter, which is why we not only keep on the lights but look for ways to add brightness to the winter experience with creativity. While I’m grateful that we no longer put candles on Christmas trees (it just sounds like asking for a fire), there is something quite magical about the LED-brightened, decorated evergreen being the only light in the room. As a kid, I’d love to lay under the tree, looking up through the branches at night. I could happily be there for hours, studying the way the glow glinted off ornaments and backlit needles. I wanted that tree to stay fresh forever—how sad when we had to take it’s dried, brittle remains down!
Objects that glitter and shimmer naturally attract the human eye. Some anthropologists speculate that this trait helped our ancestors notice water in the distance, as the shimmering light would reflect off the surface of a pool or river onto the leaves above. No wonder then that, in search of brightness in wintertime, we bring out sparkling, shimmering, metallic, and glittering decorations, ribbons, and lights for the season. It’s a human thing.
I enjoy the seasonal decorations even after the holidays have passed. The nights are still long, the days are still short. My pineal body wishes I could sleep for 10 hours, but my creative brain has too many inspiring projects to work on. Time to turn on the lights, build a fire in the woodstove, and bring out the crochet hook, felting needle, or a good book before calling it a day.
I just might leave those icicle fairy lights I put on the banister all year. Their small points of light glow like tiny candles, adding warmth and a cozy sense to the room. They needn’t be just a Christmas affair—this business of bringing light into the darkest time of year is more than a holiday thing—it’s a human thing.
So, bring in the greenery, string the lights, build the fires, set the candles, and invite the cheer all through the winter. Push back the edges of the darkness, remember that spring will come again, and embrace the work of winter’s renewal. See you down on the farm sometime.
