While the Earth Holds Its Breath: Embracing the winter season

by Helen Moat

“Every year for as long as I could remember, I dreaded the shortening days, the fog and the rain. But what if I went outdoors instead?”

Helen Moat used to hide from winter: she would hunker down inside, yearn for the sun, and wait it out. So when she heard others call it their preferred season, she went on a mission to discover what they saw in the months she found so difficult.

Trying to understand why some of the darkest and coldest countries in the world have the lowest rates of seasonal depression, she dives into cultural practices from warming winter food to traditional book gifting and finds that forcing herself her outside in the harshest conditions unexpectedly pushes her into deepened human connections.

Journeying across Japan, Iceland, Scotland and, just once, escaping to the warmth of Spain, While the Earth Holds its Breath nurtures resilience and determination. Ultimately, it finds a positivity that does not ignore the darkness, but finds something to love there.

Genres: Nonfiction, Memoir, Nature

256 pages, Paperback

Published November 14, 2024

Reviews

[Rebecca · Rating 3 out of 5]

Like many of us, Moat struggles with mood and motivation during the darkest and coldest months of the year. Over the course of three recent winters overlapping with the pandemic, she strove to change her attitude. The book spins short autobiographical pieces out of wintry walks near her Derbyshire home or further afield. Paying closer attention to the natural spectacles of the season and indulging in cosy food and holiday rituals helped, as did trips to places where winters are either a welcome respite (Spain) or so much harsher as to put her own into perspective (Lapland and Japan). My favourite pieces of all were about sharing English Christmas traditions with new Ukrainian refugee friends.

There were many incidents and emotions I could relate to here – a walk on the canal towpath always makes me feel better, and the car-heavy lifestyle I resume on trips to America feels unnatural.

Days are where we must live, but it didn’t have to be a prison of house and walls. I needed the rush of air, the slap of wind on my cheeks. I needed to feel alive. Outdoors.

I’d never liked the rain, but if I were to grow to love winters on my island, I had to learn to love wet weather, go out in it.

What can there be but winter? It belongs to the circle of life. And I belonged to winter, whether I liked it or not. Indoors, or moving from house to vehicle and back to house again, I lost all sense of my place on this Earth. This world would be my home for just the smallest of moments in the vastness of time, in the turning of the seasons. It was a privilege, I realised.

However, the content is repetitive such that the three-year cycle doesn’t add a lot and the same sorts of pat sentences about learning to love winter recur. Were the timeline condensed, there might have been more of a focus on the more interesting travel segments, which also include France and Scotland. So many have jumped on the Wintering bandwagon, but Katherine May’s book felt fresh in a way the others haven’t.

Originally published on my blog, Bookish Beck.

[Paul · Rating 4 out of 5]

Winter is a season people love and hate. Some love the cold bright days and the twinkling of lights in what seems to be an increasingly longer Christmas period. For others this is the worst time of the year, the days are short and grey, the lack of sunlight opening out to depression in the form of SAD.

Personally, I like all of the seasons for different reasons, but do hate what feels like the relentless grey that we sometimes get over the winter. Helen Moat is one of those who hates winter, the relentless gloom causes her severe anxiety. This book is her journey over three winters to see if she can overcome it.

Normally her anxiety builds from October; the long days of summer are over, the heat is fading and soon the clocks will change once again. This October is stranger than most. It is 2020 and I am sure we can remember what happened that year… She has managed to escape with her husband to Wales in their campervan where the lockdown and contact rules dictate who can do what and when. The weather causes them to cut short their break, something they come to regret as the further lockdowns that happen later in the year mean they can’t get away again.

But this year is different, this is the year she wants to break her fear of this season. It is a journey that will take her to Lapland and Japan, finding out how other cultures deal with the season of winter.

Moat learns that the people in the far north rarely suffer from seasonal affective disorder (SAD) even though their day can be as short as six hours long. She is fortunate to get a trip out there as a freelance travel journalist. The -20C temperature will take a bit of getting used to…

She brings back to the UK what she has learnt over there, light from candles and a wood burner helps with the ambience as she learns to celebrate the small things; hot soups, cakes and getting outside into the natural world and adopting the Scandinavian policy of ‘bunkering down’. She uses the dark nights to slow down and reflect and consider how it was starting to work for her.

Mot reached her third winter. The summer had been great and she loved the time she spent with friends on patios drinking wine and watching the bats swoop by. In September her and her husband head to France. She was trying to postpone winter by trying to find the later summer sun, but she knew that she had to face the physical and figurative darkness.

Moat is fortunate enough to get a commission to write about Japanese food, Not only was she going to a place that she had always dreamed of visiting, Japan. Moat has always strived for perfection in her life, but it would be here that she would learn about the Japanese beauty of imperfection – Wabi-Sabi.

Being there is unsettling and alien. Only having three words in Japanese meant that communication was mostly laughing and gestures. She learns so much about the culture, their respect and awe for the natural world, but it also teaches her that all things must change and each season is treated with equal weight. She would bring home mental skills that would help her cope with winter at home.

I thought that this was really good. It is a journey in many senses, but it is mostly about her understanding and coming to terms with winter. She comes to understand why the winter is so hard to cope with and explains the methods she has found to mitigate her worries. Her trips abroad were fascinating and I felt that I had learnt a little more about the places she went to. If you have a thing about the darkest part of the year then I would really recommend reading this. It is worth reading in conjunction with Wintering by Katherine May too.

[Sophy H · Rating 2 out of 5]

I think this book suffers from a serious case of "glut syndrome"! Let me explain. There are now countless "nature journal" books out there and each presumably needs its own "handle" to appeal to the public. This offering from Helen Moat follows the trope of Seasonal Affective Disorder and depression eased by immersion in the outdoors and the acceptance of winter as a healing balm instead of the cold, damp misery it usually is!

The book is alright as far as nature writing goes, there are moments of poetic description and valuable discussions but Moat decides to frame her story within the Shamdemic timeframe. There are constant references to lockdowns, isolation, shielding etc, which if I'm honest, I'm sick to death of hearing about. I could happily throw all pandemic books on a great big pyre and send them down the nearest river! In between Moat's terrible times of isolation and lockdowns, she's able to swan off all over the globe to visit friends and tit about in different countries. Alright for some hey!

The book didn't really work for me, it left me completely underwhelmed and raising my eyes to heaven more than once. Basically I couldn't be arsed! 2 star fare.

[Janneke · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is a lovely and knowledgeable book, both about hunkering down (I love that phrase - learned the true meaning of it from a Scot during a power cut in a storm on the Isle of Arran) and braving the winter wet and cold.

[Paola Fornari · Rating 5 out of 5]

I was delighted to receive this book as a gift from the author. Like Helen Moat, I am a sufferer of Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD), and ‘I dread the coming of winter every single year’. Short, gloomy days, if I have to endure them, have me curling up inside thermal layers under blankets, whirlpooling into the depths of a mix of apathy and anxiety, unable to function properly. But I am usually lucky enough to be able to escape. Moat is determined to overcome her condition, not, as I do, by taking flight like the swallows, heading south, but by tackling the problem head on. She takes us with her on her quest over three winter seasons, during which she works on embracing the inevitable, learning precious lessons along the way from nature, and from distant northern cultures.

During the first winter, hemmed in by Covid restrictions, she studies the Japanese art of forest bathing, and transposes it to the Peak District where she lives…and it works for her: ‘I circled round, cradled by the conifers, the core strength of their trunks so rooted to the earth, rooting me.’
She pushes herself to head out into the countryside, and finds comfort in looking outwards rather than inwards, observing the details of her surroundings: ‘But the buzzards pulled me into the present…Gliding, diving. Gliding, circling. And in that moment, the buzzards and I were in harmony.
Through long, dark, winter months, we accompany her on night walks in her immediate, locked down neighborhood: ‘The night wrapped a blanket around the pines; around us. Shapes became blurry. The blackened land merged with the sky…I was growing to love the dark.’

But Moat admits with honesty that the lows cannot be completely erased. ‘There were days when lacklustre skies bore down too heavily, the light too mean.’ Repeated lockdowns are hard to take. ‘The Earth shrank again. My motivation was as low as the winter light.’

In the second winter, the winter of ‘widening horizons’, one of her trips takes her to the seaside in Pembrokeshire, after which she is ‘grateful for the energy of the ocean…grateful for the winds and rains. Grateful for the wild seas and winter greys.’

And later that winter, her horizons stretch further. In Lapland we live the power of silence with her as she ‘…was stripped bare…Slowly, I tuned into the river landscape … I let go of my anxiety, stepped out of my head and into the otherworldliness of the Arctic.’

It is this stepping out, this learning from the experts, that helps her find comfort. She writes of the Lappish Finns: ‘They embraced the polar night. They embraced their part in nature’s eco-chain…I needed to embrace my very British version of winter.

Moat’s third winter takes us to Japan, where she experiences the Japanese cultural philosophy of harmony first-hand. With delicate brushstrokes, she describes the rice farmers’ preparations to protect their fields from the elements: ‘…here on the cusp of winter, they were hunkering down. All things in harmony.’

Not only does Moat gradually come to terms with the darkness of the soul that comes with winters: she finishes her three-year journey by moving even further north, to Fife in Scotland. It is what she fundamentally desires: ‘I wanted to inhabit the darkness of windswept days, where the light is constantly at play. Yes, without darkness, we cannot appreciate the light. Without shortened days, we cannot appreciate long summer evenings…I would continue to learn to love the dark.’

Moat’s tone is meditative, gentle, in places emotional, with touches of humour. Her mix of personal reflection, perceptive and detailed nature descriptions, and observations on the fragility of our environment work well. She comes across as open and honest, unafraid to face inner anxieties and outside hardship.

Her book encourages us as readers to slow down, hold our breath as does the world, live in the moment, and search outside ourselves for small joys. Precious advice (though I think I may continue using the ‘Head South’ method while I can!).

[Rachel · Rating 4 out of 5]

In Helen Moat’s poignant memoir, "While the Earth Holds Its Breath," she reflects on the profound impact of the 2020 global lockdown. As the relentless noise of human civilization quieted, Moat found solace in the ceaseless rhythm of the natural world. Through personal anecdotes and keen observations, she explores the unexpected gift of recalibrating our relationship with time, space, and the environment.

Navigating the early days of the pandemic, Moat found solace in confinement through daily walks and the rhythms of nature. She delves into themes of global anxiety, community fragility, and environmental urgency, emphasizing the need to slow down and reconnect with nature. Moat suggests that the Earth's momentary pause was a vital reset for human consciousness, urging us to carry forward a newfound awareness as life resumes its pace.

Embracing radical pauses as opportunities for self-reflection, Moat encourages finding comfort in the predictable rhythms of the natural world. She highlights the value of micro-adventures in familiar surroundings and the power of mindfulness in appreciating small details. By shifting focus from productivity to nature's timeless processes, she advocates for a more profound sense of community forged through shared vulnerability and mutual support.

As the world grapples with collective grief and uncertainty, Moat's memoir serves as a reminder to acknowledge losses before moving forward. In times of crisis, she finds solace in simple comforts, underscoring the importance of integrating the lessons of stillness into our lives. Ultimately, Moat's narrative inspires a contemplative journey towards embracing quiet awareness amidst the chaos of modern existence.

[Lisa Deborah · Rating 5 out of 5]

While the Earth Holds Its Breath” by Helen Moat is a beautifully reflective and soul-nourishing exploration of winter, its darkness, its quiet revelations, and the unexpected gifts hidden within the season. Moat invites readers on a deeply personal journey, transforming winter from a time of dread into a landscape of wonder, renewal, and profound introspection.

From the first pages, Moat’s prose glows with sensory richness. She captures the delicate shimmer of gossamer fields woven by tiny spiders, the steady percussion of a woodpecker echoing through a damp forest, and the keen-eyed stillness of buzzards cutting through cold skies. These small but exquisite moments of nature become powerful anchors for her emotional and psychological journey.

What elevates this book is Moat’s honesty. She does not shy away from her struggles with seasonal anxiety, nor does she romanticize the challenges winter brings. Instead, she allows the natural world, and the wisdom of cultures across Lapland, Japan, and beyond, to shift her perspective. Through their philosophies, traditions, and reverence for darkness, Moat uncovers a new understanding: that winter is not merely a waiting period, but a season with its own quiet beauty and emotional depth.

As she moves through forests, across continents, and into her own heart, Moat ultimately finds resilience and a gentle, transformative joy. “While the Earth Holds Its Breath” is a tender meditation on embracing darkness, finding solace in nature, and rediscovering hope in stillness. Poetic, calming, and deeply insightful, this is a book to savor and return to each winter.

[Jennifer · Rating 4 out of 5]

I really enjoyed this book, not that I need any encouragement to appreciate winter.

It was an odd, uncanny and sometimes slightly melancholy experience for a very niche reason, living on the same street as the author (back then), with an almost identical view (as per my profile image) to the one which features so strongly in the book. I say 'almost' because it is remarkable how different it can be from house to house in one short road. We too went exploring that view in detail during Covid restrictions- indeed it is a wonder we never bumped into one another. She writes about so many local places that are familiar to me, and renders them so well.

But this is more than an appreciation of the Peak District, or nature in lockdown work. We get to travel to explore experiences and attitudes to Winter in a variety of places across the world and to look deeper into the meaning of this season - for the planet, nature and for humans, and in particular the impact on mental health, with some fascinating insights. It would have been interesting to compare with somewhere that simply doesn't have the same cycle. I think I'd feel lost!

[Alyson Indrunas · Rating 5 out of 5]

So fascinating to read another book on the challenges of winter. I sometimes imagine the same book but about the relentlessness of heat and light in the summer. (Nobody would read this). I love winter-all seasons, really-and I always enjoy learning about how other cultures experience the seasons. After reading this book (and all the wintering-type books) I think I have more in common with the Japanese "wa" and I really enjoyed this part of the book. Also interesting to read about the horrors of my country (USA) and Putin's fuckery through another's eyes.

Loved these quotes:
"I have nature and art and poetry, and if that's not enough, what is enough?"

"...I had to relearn a love of winter"

"...by a sky flung with stars and frosted pine forests and moon-ghosted snow."

[Louise Lloyd · Rating 5 out of 5]

Living in the U.K. we often fail to seem the magic and beauty of our land. instead we gaze in wonder a pictures of far off places, exotic and lush.

Helen Moat has managed to capture the stunning beauty of the Derbyshire Countryside and Welsh and Lincolnshire coastlines. This book was a joy to read and made me want to rediscover some of our local Countryside, occasionally sneaking over the Derbyshire border to marvel at the beauty of the Peaks.

As Helen dreams of far off places, her book has fanned the warmth of home for me, with all the magic it has to offer as we head into winter.

Thank you Helen, snuggling under a blanket with your beautiful book was a true gift ❤️

[Aja · Rating 3 out of 5]

A slow sometimes meditative, sometimes repetitive book of loosely connected (in a narrative sense) essays on winter and the authors travels to explore the psychology of winter in other countries. Any time she talked about food (which was few and far between) I felt some life emerge from her words and got excited. I didn’t love the generalizations particularly in the chapter on Japan - “the Japanese” do this and “the Japanese” feel this way - do they all?

[Gillian Shimwell · Rating 4 out of 5]

As a friend of the author, I recall the seasons and activities recorded.
Reading an account of real life, faithfully recorded, yet elevated, fragranced or candlelit by the lyrical writing style- and the author's narrative decisions, which inevitably make a neat shape of the adventures and the lessons learned, was an intriguing experience.There is no anguish or wallowing, despite the theme of winter depression, which is treated with a lighter touch than the lived experience.
There is some repetition of phrases in the closing chapters,
but this is a minor toe stub in an enjoyable journey through numerous vivid scenes, meals, and friendships.

[Victoria Williams · Rating 2 out of 5]

I picked this book up looking to explore the writer’s progress towards finding comfort in winter and taking ideas for myself. It seems her main solution is have holidays elsewhere where winter is better. It is well written with some lovely imagery but I ended up wanting to book just to finish.

[Carin Sporrer · Rating 3 out of 5]

I loved the tides of this book more than the actual book itself. Needed a bit of context in some places. Did have some profound parts, and I overall loved its ideas, just not exactly a page turner.

[Kim Armstrong Silcox · Rating 4 out of 5]

Quiet contemplation of managing the darkness of winter by examining how other cultures, Finnish and Japanese, embrace the winter season rather than fight against it.