Midwinter: Why Yule Sits in the Middle of the Story

If you’ve ever looked at the Wheel of the Year and wondered why Yule is called midwinter when winter is just getting started… you’re in very good company.

I used to think someone made a mistake.

Surely “midwinter” should land somewhere in January when the cold is truly biting and the holiday cookies have mysteriously vanished?

But once you learn the rhythm our ancestors lived by, the whole thing clicks into place.

Winter started long before the solstice

For people who lived close to the land, winter didn’t begin on an official date. It arrived the moment the light truly began to fade — at Samhain, while the last harvest was being tucked away and the winds were turning sharp.

By the time the solstice arrived, they were already deep into the cold season. The snow, the dark, the quiet… all of it had been building for weeks.

So when Yule came, it wasn’t “the start.”

It was the middle — the point where winter sits in its thickest, heaviest cloak.

And then something subtle shifts

The winter solstice is the longest night of the year, yes.

But it’s also the night the Sun begins its slow return.

Not with trumpets. Not with fanfare.

Just the tiniest nudge toward morning.

Our ancestors noticed those tiny shifts.

They didn’t have smartphones, but they did have a strong relationship with the sky.

They saw the way shadows changed.

They felt how the cold settled differently.

And they celebrated.

Because even the smallest change in light is thrilling when you’re living in the dark.

Yule honors the tipping point, not the temperature

This is one of the reasons I love seasonal living.

It’s not about worshipping the earth or signing yourself up for a particular belief system.

It’s about paying attention.

Noticing rhythm.

Letting the natural world be a teacher instead of noise in the background.

Yule is the reminder that even in the deepest dark, things are already shifting toward light — whether we can see it clearly or not.

So what does this mean for us now?

We live modern lives with heating systems, grocery stores, and calendars that tell us exactly where to be and when.

But the body still responds to light and dark.

Your circadian rhythm still whispers the same instructions it always has:

Slow down. Rest. Make things cozy.

(If you want more on this, I linked my blog post on circadian rhythm at the bottom.)

This is the season where we tend the inner fire — the ideas that need gestation, the hopes that want a little protection before they’re ready for daylight.

And it’s a season where we get to practice something that’s a little rare these days: Not rushing.

Winter is already long.

We don’t need to race it.

Simple ways to mark Midwinter (no ritual robes required)

Light a candle the morning after solstice to welcome the returning sun.

Open your door for a moment of fresh air — a gentle “thank you” to the season you’re standing in.

Journal one question: What is quietly growing in me right now?

Make something warm and fragrant — a simmer pot, tea, mulled cider, soup — anything that feels like comfort in a mug.

Get outside, even just for a minute, and look for signs of light returning. (It feels good, I promise.)

Midwinter isn’t a celebration of cold. It’s a celebration of hope.

We’re not quite ready to leap into the new year.

We’re not done reflecting.

We’re not finished resting.

We’re standing at the deep center of winter, noticing that the world is already turning toward brightness.

A tiny shift.

A small change.

A quiet beginning.

And sometimes, that’s all the magic we need.

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Make sure to read my blog post on Circadian Rhythm here.

And if you need some pretty candles to light up your midwinter days, you can find them here.