
The Light in the Dark by Horatio Clare
As the author gets used to winter ‘up north’ they have to navigate the challenging impact of the dark months and hardship of winter on their mental health. Sometimes it seems never ending, but there are also moments of beauty and, of course, it ends with the promise of spring.
In slow down mode last weekend, I picked up another book from the waiting-to-be-read pile. A book about surviving winter in the depths of winter could seem like unnecessary punishment. But the book reminded me to look for the light:
Winter in the Mountains is Arresting in its Drama (p30)
On Tuesday, every time I popped into the kitchen for a cuppa or a snack (or both), I looked out of the window. Whilst I might not see mountains, I do have a pretty incredible view. In between snowfalls, when the clouds turned grey and the light was almost gone from the sky, the sun tried its best to break through and add something magical to the view. I was captivated – opening the door at each visit (and embracing the icy blast) to take a photo to capture the drama of the ever-changing sky.







A Pale Orange Dawn and Very Cold (p155)
On Thursday when I woke up and checked the view, the canal had frozen over; a sure sign of just how cold it had been overnight. But winter means you don’t get have to get up really early to be able to watch the sunrise; so I sat with a cup of coffee to watch the darkness fade and light return, then changed my location and begun my work day.




The Light was Astonishing Today (p156)
On Friday morning, it felt colder than ever. The canal was still frozen over and it could have been a day to stay at home. But the sky was clear and the sun was doing its best to bring warmth and light. So I took a break at lunchtime, wrapped up in as many layers as I could wear and still move, and headed out for a walk in the woods – just ten minutes from our front door. Of all the places to escape for a lunchtime walk, this is my favourite – especially when the sun is reflecting on the snow and the shadows are dancing between the trees.






The Kitchen is a Pile of Stores (p129)
On Saturday morning, I woke up early but had nowhere to be – all the local parkruns had been cancelled and I was happy to stay at home in the warm. I rooted through the cupboards, finding an odd mismatch of ingredients. What could I make with some oranges, mushy bananas and yoghurt that needed eating? What else was hiding in the back of the cupboards? I delved into my cookbooks and did some googling – and we had chocolate orange blended baked oats for breakfast and banana yoghurt cake with lemon curd topping for afternoon tea.
We Made Preparations (p40)
Sunday started with the bottle kilns shrouded in mist and an icy chill in the air. The promised thaw still seemed unlikely. Stay at home? Not today – I was soon on my way to walk a potential new junior parkrun route – with about 15 volunteers hoping to make it happen. The team made their plans, checked the route and documented everything they needed for their risk assessment – they could have stayed at home too, but they didn’t. There was optimism and excitement about how different the park would look in a few months – with the noise, smiles and bright colours of a junior parkrun. Coming soon.


And Then A New Day (p141)
The feeling of optimism continued as I walked through an underpass on my way home – the bright colours and floral themes of the mural reminded me again that spring will come… I’m sure I’ve walked past them many times before, but today the light shone through.

52 for 52 in 2025 #2 – weekly blogs in 2025 inspired by the books I’m reading.