What I Did for the Winter Holiday

Winter is my favorite time of year. There’s something magical about how the world feels quieter, softer, like it’s taking a deep breath. Of course, living in a tower with no neighbors means it’s always pretty quiet, but during the winter holidays, I like to make things feel a little extra special.

The first thing I always do is decorate. I take out all my favorite winter ornaments—snowflakes carved from crystal, shimmering icicles that catch the light, and delicate frosted garlands I made last year. Blizzard loves to help, or at least she thinks she’s helping. Mostly, she ends up knocking things over with her tail, but her excitement is contagious, so I don’t mind too much.

My favorite decoration, though, is a snowflake chandelier I made a few years ago. It hangs in the main hall, catching the light from the fire and casting sparkling patterns on the walls. It took forever to craft, and there are definitely a few uneven edges, but it’s become a tradition to hang it every year.

Once the tower is transformed into a little winter wonderland, I turn my attention to the kitchen. Winter holidays wouldn’t be the same without the special food. Father says I go overboard (he’s probably right), but I can’t help myself. I make spiced cookies shaped like stars, hot cider that fills the tower with the smell of cinnamon, and a stew so hearty it could warm even the frostiest of days.

But the real star of the show is the snowberry pie. It’s a tricky thing to make—the berries have to be harvested at just the right time, and the crust is annoyingly delicate—but it’s worth it. The look on Father’s face when he takes that first bite is one of my favorite parts of the season.

And then there’s the presents. Every year, I try to make something special for Father. Last year, it was a book I wrote full of my favorite memories with him. The year before that, I tried my hand at wood carving, though the "owl" I made looked more like a squashed potato. This year? Well…

This year, I attempted crochet. I found an old book in the library with instructions and thought, How hard could it be? Turns out, very. The scarf I made for Father is lopsided, riddled with knots, and definitely not long enough to wrap around twice like I’d hoped. But it’s warm, and I think he appreciated the effort. Or maybe he’s just being polite.

Still, there’s something special about making gifts by hand, imperfections and all. It’s my way of showing him how much he means to me, even if my creations never quite turn out as planned.

On the night of the holiday, we sit by the fire with Blizzard curled up between us, sipping hot cider and enjoying the quiet. The tower feels cozy, filled with warmth and light, and for a little while, it’s easy to forget about everything outside these walls.

That’s what I love most about the winter holiday—it’s not about perfection or extravagance. It’s about creating moments of joy, however small, and sharing them with the ones you love.

So, what do you do for the winter holiday? Any tips for a beginner crocheter? Asking for… well, me.

— Sarra