Hello my friends,

Happy 2026! I hope you all enjoyed an enchanting December, and are easing into the new year. The solstice and yule season always seems to fly by in the blink of an eye.

Jake and I are mostly settled into our new zone in Chelsea, alongside my parents, three cats, one dog, and the deer we’ve been feeding apples and cranberries to. I’m already feeling the little pangs of missing Detroit. However, despite having spent many nights and weekends loading and unloading our cars, somehow we still aren’t completely out of our old spot, so I know we’ll be back again soon. Did you guys know that moving is, like, kind of hard? 

Being in Chelsea has its benefits. There are obviously the “get me out of here” moments (à la Meg Stalter) but overall, it’s good and we’re grateful. A big perk—The trees! The wildlife! The SNOW! Gone are the days of grey city sludge. Out here, we’re abundant with clean, sparkly acres of snow, surrounding us like a blanket.

This is particularly helpful for one of my favorite winter activities, snow cleaning my wools. Are you familiar? If not, I highly recommend it. The method is simple. On a very cold day with powdery snow, take your wool sweaters, rugs, and sheepskins outside and let them drop in temperature. Then lay them in a patch of fresh snow a few inches deep and cover them. Lightly agitate the snow into the wool (if you’re cleaning a rug, you can put it facedown and stomp on it/drag it back and forth) and leave for 15-20 minutes. Shake or beat the items in midair to remove the snow particles before bringing them back inside to fully dry. The little snow crystals cling to dirt and debris, and you’re left with a cleansed, brightened wool that smells absolutely divine.

To me, winter is a magic season. Dark, still, cold, and quiet—it speaks to my hermitic tendencies. Yet amidst the seemingly neverending night, the solstice brings us a glimmer of hope, reminding us that the light will return. Citrus fruit grows in abundance, each orange as radiant as the sun itself. Yule arrives and everyone is flushed and merry. People bring trees into their freaking houses and cover them in twinkle lights! 

My herbalism teacher Marysia Miernowska refers to the winter portal as a time of miracles in darkness. I’ve been sitting with that phrase lately, and feeling into the word miracle in general. Miracles, hope, faith in the sunrise still under the horizon, trust in the emergence of goodness even if we can’t see it yet. These things feel potent right now. May this energy dance with all of us in 2026.

I didn’t do any grand solstice or new years ritual. Jake and I spent a few days up north with some beloved friends, snow shoeing and laughing our asses off. We did pull some tarot cards and reflected a bit on what the year ahead may hold for each of us personally and collectively. Our collective pull from the Motherpeace deck was the 10 of Wands, a card depicting an explosion of creative energy. This feels fitting for 2026—a 1 year in traditional numerology (or a 10 year in the yogic tradition), we’re beginning a new cycle. The radiant body is expanding. 2025 was a 9 year, a time of karmic completion, and the year of the Wood Snake in the Chinese zodiac. We’ve had to shed our skin as we slithered through the labyrinth, feeding the compost beneath our feet. Now we emerge in 2026, the year of the Fire Horse. The matches are waiting to be struck, and the soil is fertile, should we be brave enough to plant our seeds.

Personally, I’m not quite ready to start the germination process yet. It is winter, after all :) I’m still in decomposition mode, clearing my mind and my space. For me this looks like staying mostly offline (shoutout to the Brick device), doing my Benshen meditations in the mornings in front of the fireplace, sniffing my pomander, taking walks down the dirt road, reading a lot of British Country Living (the greatest magazine of all time), knitting my first pair of socks, listening to this playlist on repeat, and drinking copious amounts of tea (my favorite blend at the moment being lemon balm, chamomile, calendula, and mountain mint). 

I hope you spent this solstice, yule, and turning of the Gregorian year in whatever way felt most nourishing to you. Wishing you peace, comfort, ease, and illumination in the year to come.

With candles lit,

Anna

P.s. If you stopped by the Nettle Head pop up at Boro in November, thank you so much! It was a pleasure to nerd out about plants and share medicine with you all. Endless gratitude.