Wintering in Scotland

My eyelids flutter open to a dark room, lit only by the flickering candle on my window sill. The book I fell asleep reading perches precariously on my right leg, spine strained, splayed open to its final chapter. Behind the warm, golden light of the candle, I spy a navy sky; beneath the crackling of the wick, quiet hums from the usually bustling street, only interspersed by the occasional disgruntled squawk of a seagull. How long have I been sleeping? I wonder to myself. 

I check the time: 4:10 in the afternoon.

This is winter in Scotland. Two weeks ago, daylight savings commenced, but there is already precious little daylight to save. The town takes on a different hue, hung already with sparkling winter lights which do not wait for Christmastide, because their crystalline comfort is needed to endure the lengthening hours of darkness. Students, professors, and shopkeepers alike complain of altered sleep schedules; it is hard not to hibernate. Winter coats have emerged, and we all mean business; hats, scarves, and gloves fly off the shelves. Even the Scotty dogs sport plaid jackets, to keep out the cold. 

I have often remarked that much of Scottish culture revolves around surviving the winter months. Whisky is employed like a central heating system, warming the body from within. If this fails to keep out the cold, one could try ceilidh dancing, i.e. vigorously jumping around a small room packed with people, the friction of arms grasped desperately to spin a partner around creating a much desired heat. And, of course, this also serves another purpose: the warding off of boredom on long dark evenings. But then, if one is not so full of energy, you can sit around a fire at the pub, telling ghost stories passed down from highland relatives, or playing music well known and love, songs composed in a misty, distant time, but whose words speak to the same fears and desires of every human heart.

Living in Scotland has taught me to reckon with winter. It is easy in the modern world to live in relative rebellion against day and night, seasons, and other environmental constraints. We flip on our artificial lights, we set our thermostats to tropic temperatures and carry on with life in an eternal summer (though not too hot a summer!). It’s not as easy to do this in Scotland. I have to walk everywhere, for one thing, and so I cannot ignore the weather. And the severity of the darkness prevents me from complete ignorance. 

There is much to love about winter, much to be missed if it is ignored. The northern lights accompany the darkness of winter. The long evenings engender an almost compulsive communal tug toward rest, play, and story telling. And perhaps most of all, the sleepiness that comes with changing light reminds us that we humans are not made for continual, mechanistic productivity. We are like fields which must lay fallow some years, or whose cold ground must regenerate, or tend to roots trapped deep below. It reminds us that seasons of inactivity are the not the same thing as a lack of fruitfulness. Spring follows Winter, but only after Winter has let the earth sleep. Why do we resent this wisdom?

Scotland has taught me to winter well.Listen to this episode to learn about Scottish Winter Traditions.Visual: The Skating Minister by Henry Raeburn























or: The Reverend Robert Walker Skating on Duddingston Loch (1790’s).

This lovely work was painted in the 1790’s but relatively unknown until its discovery in the 1940’s. It’s mysterious origins were the subject of much controversy. You can find out more in the documentary below.

May we all take fun as seriously as the sombre, skating minister…

What I love best about it is how sombrely the reverend is going about the merry task of iceskating. It reminds me that leisure activities are of no small importance— they remind us that life is a gift, to be received and enjoyed. Like John Milton, we should learn that “God doth not need, Either man’s work or his own gifts.” Our work matters, but we must also take moments to rest and to worship.

“ They also serve who only stand and *skate*”

— John Milton/Joy Clarkson revision


2. Literary — Sweet William’s Ghost














The English and Scottish Popular Ballads, Vol. 1

By Francis James Child






Fun fact: sweet William is not actually sweet but, in fact, the worst. But you’ll have to listen to the poem to find out why.

3. Musical — Reels Medley, John Mock














Celtic Visions

By John Mock






Traditional Celtic Music is communal. Join in with your instruments, your voice, your cheers, and when the spirit moves: dance!























Tune in next week for another episode!do you enjoy speaking with joy? consider supporting me on patreon!