perspective

I've always hated winter. Here's how I'm learning to embrace it

It's an early-winter Friday evening in Melbourne. I walk out of the office into the cold, deep dark to discover that it's raining. Heavily.

Normally, I would hunch myself into my coat, head directly home and spend the rest of the night complaining about the miserable weather.

But, this time, I do something different. I pull out my phone, consult a Google Doc my friend had recently sent me and head to the shops.

I return home with arms full of red wine, oranges, cloves, allspice, cinnamon and brandy: ingredients for mulled wine. The windows fog up as I prepare the redolent mix on the stove, heater on, music playing.

My housemates and I cook a supermarket lasagne, queue up Moulin Rouge and fill our mugs with the steaming concoction.

It's called winter thriving.

How a shared doc started it all

Normally, as the months march inexorably towards June, I feel pretty miserable.

I sit in the glorious autumnal sunshine, colourful leaves at my feet, and scowl. How could this be happening to me, again? By this, I mean the natural annual tilt of the earth that takes us further away from the sun. I hate winter. Always have.

But this year — thanks, primarily, to the organisational skills of my friend — I am trying a different approach.

After a dinner one night that was dominated by the usual moans about the months of cold we were staring down, she went home and made a document featuring all the ways to best enjoy this inevitable portion of the year. The Doc is called "Thriving in winter: Preparation, acceptance and perspective".

The very next day she sent The Doc through to us all, saying it's a community resource to help "when you are feeling the winter blues".

Preparation is key

This is where things usually fall apart for me. My existential hatred of this season means I go into full denial right around April.

"Autumn in Melbourne can still be quite warm you know," I tell anyone who will listen.

But then I'm suddenly left shivering and shocked when the season arrives.

So, this year, instead of insisting on keeping my summer doona on until I'm able to see my breath as I go to sleep, I have been leaning in.

I have dug around in the cupboards to find as many old winter things as I could, then headed to op shops and looked out for sales to ensure I have things like flannelette sheets, really comfy PJs, wet weather bike riding gear, a door snake for draughts, a heat pack, a coat that closely resembles a sleeping bag, candles and lamps for cosiness, and some vitamin D supplements.

Now, my bed is a nest that I can't wait to dive into, my room is full of hygge vibes and I feel very cute in my chunky knits and beanies.

Acceptance will help too

I will never prefer winter and I don't want to hear your arguments about how it's easier to make yourself warm than it is to cool yourself down.

You're wrong. Summer is the best.

BUT, unless I move away from most of my family and friends in pursuit of eternal summer, it's a season I'm just going to have to accept as a part of life.

And, thanks to The Doc, I am now ready to admit: there are some things about this season that can be lovely. And some/most of those things are food and drink.

There's pasta and cake and bourguignon (try it with kangaroo!) and porridge with yummy topping and pies and puddings and hearty soups. (All of which I happily scoff down, because my body is meant to put on extra layers in winter, for protection against the cold!)

There's hot chocolate, chai lattes, port, hot toddies and peppermint nightmares (a delicious concoction invented in a share house many years ago: peppermint tea, whisky and honey).

Mulled wine is now a regular occurrence for me after I discovered how easy and delicious it is. It is also a real kick to make Feuerzangenbowle (German festive fire punch), especially if you can find yourself a German friend who will smuggle a special sugar cone back into the country to soak in rum, set on fire and bring a bit of dramatic flair to your evening.

It's also important to remind myself that you can still do stuff in winter, even if you do want to just get into bed for a few months.

If you are in a hermit phase, there's long baths, getting into knitting or crochet, cooking long and elaborate meals, reading books and watching movies set in cold places and, my personal favourite, getting really cosy in bed and opening the window (note: this is best when it's raining).

If you actually want to leave your room, there's things like backyard bonfires or finding a local pub with a fireplace, making a fancy feast for friends, going to that art gallery you've been meaning to visit, spas and saunas, walks in a moody rainforest or on a whirling beach, heading to the movies (Barbie premiere, anyone?), planning a snow trip (tobogganing at Mt Buffalo is free!) and holding witchy wintery ceremonies during the transition times.

We can do this

As much as I would like to, I can't spend the coming months napping in a cosy cave full of snacks like a sleepy little bear. Firstly, I would probably lose my job, and I think I'd get bored.

But winter is a chance to slow down a little bit. There is less social pressure as events get scaled back and people leave town. Everything moves at a calmer, gentler pace.

After the rush of activity at the start of the year, maybe it's not all bad to be forced to go to bed a bit earlier, eat a lot of carbs and make warm drinks with your friends.

In fact, it's pretty nice.