How to Winter

How to Winter Plot Summary

Introduction

I used to hate winter. Growing up on the New Jersey shore, I found the cold months intolerable—a dreary time of darkness, discomfort, and limitation. But during a research year in Tromsø, Norway—the northernmost university city in the world where the sun doesn't rise for two months each winter—I discovered something unexpected: people there weren't just surviving winter, they were thriving. This revelation led me to study "wintertime mindset"—how our beliefs and attitudes about winter fundamentally shape our experience of the season. What if we could transform our relationship with winter from one of dread to one of appreciation and enjoyment? In this book, I'll share insights from my research in the Arctic and interviews with winter experts from around the world. You'll discover how shifting your mindset can help you not only endure but embrace the cold, dark season; how cultures across the globe create meaning during winter months; and how winter can teach us valuable lessons about rest, coziness, and resilience that benefit us year-round. Whether you live in a place with extreme winters or merely notice the shortening days, understanding winter psychology offers a powerful approach to thriving during challenging seasons—both literal winters and metaphorical ones in our lives.

Chapter 1: The Wintertime Mindset: How Psychology Shapes Our Seasonal Experience

Our mindsets are core assumptions about how things work in the world. These mental frameworks aren't just passive beliefs—they actively shape what we notice, how we feel, and what we do. When it comes to winter, most people in Western cultures hold the mindset that winter is inherently limiting and dreary. This perspective makes us focus on winter's discomforts, leading us to complain about the cold, avoid outdoor activities, and count down the days until spring. But this mindset creates a self-fulfilling prophecy: when we expect winter to be miserable, we experience it as miserable. The alternative—what I call a "positive wintertime mindset"—views winter as a season full of unique opportunities rather than just limitations. People with this mindset notice winter's special qualities: the stillness of a snowy landscape, the intimacy of gathering by firelight, the invigoration of crisp air. They anticipate winter's pleasures and find ways to incorporate them into daily life. In Tromsø, I observed how residents spoke about winter with excitement rather than dread. They didn't just tolerate the polar night—they celebrated it with film festivals, community events, and outdoor adventures. My research found that this mindset correlated strongly with wellbeing measures. People with more positive wintertime mindsets reported greater life satisfaction, more positive emotions, and higher levels of personal growth. Interestingly, this mindset was more common at higher latitudes—where winters are objectively harsher—suggesting that our relationship with winter isn't determined by weather conditions but by cultural attitudes and personal perspectives. Like other mindsets studied by psychologists, wintertime mindset isn't about denying reality or forcing positivity. Rather, it's about selectively focusing on certain aspects of a complex reality. Winter can be both challenging and wonderful. Our mindset doesn't change the temperature or hours of daylight, but it dramatically affects how we interpret and respond to these conditions. By becoming aware of our current mindset about winter, we can begin to shift it, reframing the season as an opportunity for different kinds of enjoyment and growth. This shift isn't just about enjoying winter more—it represents a powerful psychological tool. Learning to find opportunity in circumstances we can't control (like darkness and cold) builds resilience that serves us in many areas of life. When we can transform our relationship with winter, we develop skills for navigating other challenging seasons, both literal and metaphorical.

Chapter 2: Appreciating Winter: Adapting Expectations and Noticing Nature's Beauty

The way we expect winter to unfold profoundly influences our experience of the season. Most of us anticipate winter with dread, creating what psychologists call a "nocebo effect"—negative expectations that make negative experiences more likely. Just as the placebo effect can reduce pain through positive expectations, our winter-is-terrible mindset makes us more attuned to discomforts and limitations, reinforcing our negative beliefs. By deliberately reshaping our expectations, we can begin transforming our winter experience before the season even begins. This starts with how we mark winter's approach. In many places, the end of daylight saving time arrives with collective groaning about early darkness. Instead, we can anticipate this transition intentionally—marking it on our calendar, planning cozy evening activities, and viewing the shift as an opportunity for earlier bedtimes or candlelit dinners. Similarly, physical preparation—pulling warm clothes to the front of our closets, stocking up on tea and cocoa, preparing our homes for cozy gatherings—helps our minds transition to winter mode with anticipation rather than resistance. Traditional cultures understood the importance of seeing winter not as one monotonous stretch but as a dynamic season with distinct phases. The Sami people of northern Europe traditionally recognized eight seasons rather than four, including early-winter, mid-winter, and spring-winter. This nuanced approach helps us appreciate winter's changing character—from the exciting first snows to the deepest darkness to the gradual return of light—and prevents us from experiencing the whole season as an undifferentiated slog. Another key to winter appreciation lies in what we choose to notice. Our attention is selective, influenced by our mindsets and cultural conditioning. Psychologist Holli-Anne Passmore's research demonstrates that simply noticing nature in our daily environment—and observing how it makes us feel—significantly boosts wellbeing, even in winter. Her "Noticing Nature Intervention" asks people to pay attention to everyday encounters with the natural world. When applied during winter months, participants reported increased positive emotions, greater connection, and more motivation despite challenging weather conditions. Winter weather itself becomes more fascinating when we observe it closely. From the complex patterns of snowflakes to the constantly changing quality of light, winter offers endless opportunities for wonder. The crisp air, the silence after snowfall, the intricate frost on windows—these experiences become available to us when we direct our attention toward them rather than focusing solely on inconvenience or discomfort. By adapting our expectations, recognizing winter's phases, and deliberately shifting our attention to winter's beauty, we begin to appreciate the season for what it is rather than wishing for what it isn't. This doesn't mean denying winter's challenges, but finding the richness that exists alongside them.

Chapter 3: Embracing Rest: Winter's Invitation to Slow Down

Winter naturally invites us to rest more deeply. During my research in Tromsø and Copenhagen, I experienced profound fatigue during the darkest months. Initially, I felt guilty about my increased need for sleep—until I recognized this as a natural, adaptive response to the season. Throughout the natural world, winter is a time of dormancy and energy conservation. Trees shed their leaves, many animals hibernate or enter torpor, and growth slows to conserve resources. Why should humans be any different? Our modern resistance to winter rest stems partly from cultural biases. The prevalence of seasonal affective disorder (SAD) has created a framework where any winter-related change in energy or mood is viewed as problematic. But research suggests true clinical winter depression affects only about 0.5-3% of people in the US. For most, feeling more tired or less social in winter may simply be a normal response to changing light and temperature. Many cultures traditionally embraced these shifts, adapting their activities and expectations to seasonal rhythms rather than fighting against them. Our productivity-obsessed culture further complicates our relationship with winter rest. As writer Jenny Odell notes, we value "exponential growth" over "maintenance"—the work of preserving and sustaining what already exists. Winter's apparent dormancy can feel wasteful or unproductive when measured against summer's visible growth. But this view obscures winter's essential role in the yearly cycle. Just as plants require winter's freezing temperatures for vernalization (the cold period necessary for spring flowering), humans benefit from periods of pulling inward, reflecting, and conserving energy. Tricia Hersey, founder of The Nap Ministry, describes rest as a form of resistance against systems that demand constant productivity. Her work reminds us that rest isn't a luxury or privilege to be earned, but a fundamental human need. Winter offers a natural container for what Hersey calls "crafting a rest practice"—not out of depression or avoidance, but intentionally and purposefully. This might include more sleep, but also mindful bathing, leisurely reading, spending time by the fire, or simply sitting quietly with tea. Winter also invites us to explore "slow hobbies"—activities that refuse to bend to our desire for immediacy and efficiency. Bread-making, knitting, pottery, woodworking—these practices teach patience and presence. They connect us to the meditative quality of winter, where results can't be rushed and the process itself becomes the point. By embracing these slower rhythms, we develop a relationship with time that serves us throughout the year. When we stop fighting winter's natural pull toward rest and recognize it as essential rather than indulgent, we open ourselves to a different kind of seasonal flourishing. We learn that productivity isn't the only measure of value, and that periods of dormancy enable future growth. Winter becomes not just a season to endure, but a teacher of balance, rhythm, and the wisdom of cycles.

Chapter 4: Creating Coziness: The Science of Hygge and Low-Arousal Positive Emotions

Winter's darkness and cold create the perfect conditions for experiencing what psychologists call "low-arousal positive emotions." Unlike high-arousal positive states like excitement and joy (which involve faster heart rates and heightened alertness), low-arousal positive emotions like contentment, serenity, and calm create feelings of peace and tranquility. Americans and Canadians typically value high-arousal positive emotions, while many East Asian cultures and Nordic countries place greater emphasis on low-arousal positive states. This cultural difference shapes what we consider ideal feelings—for Americans, "happy" often means excited and enthusiastic, while for others it might mean peaceful and content. This preference helps explain why some cultures more readily embrace winter. In Scandinavia, winter is the perfect season for hygge (Danish) or koselig (Norwegian)—a feeling of cozy contentment and well-being achieved through simple pleasures. This isn't just about aesthetics or material comforts. While fuzzy blankets and warm drinks can facilitate coziness, hygge is fundamentally an internal state—a gentle peacefulness that can be found in quiet moments alone or in intimate gatherings with loved ones. Creating environments that nurture this coziness is both an art and a science. Lighting plays a crucial role. Harsh overhead lighting works against our relaxation, while soft, warm-toned light from lamps and candles creates a sense of intimacy and calm. In Denmark, people burn an average of 3.5 kilograms of candles annually, with 60% lighting candles daily. The practice of "Big Light Off"—turning off overhead lights in favor of softer sources—helps transition from day to evening, signaling to our bodies and minds that it's time to wind down. Warmth is equally important for cultivating hygge. Well-insulated spaces, proper heating, and places to hang wet coats make it easier to recover from the cold outside. This physical comfort creates the conditions for psychological ease. The contrast between winter's cold and indoor warmth is part of what makes winter coziness special—something impossible to fully appreciate during warmer months. While the concept of hygge has been commercialized in recent years, its essence isn't about purchasing special products. Many cultures have their own versions of winter coziness: Viennese coffee houses where patrons linger for hours, Japanese izakayas filled with steam and sake, Dutch "brown bars" for card games and conversation. The British pub culture, with its fires, candles, and Sunday roasts, exemplifies winter coziness though it's rarely recognized as such. Winter also provides unique opportunities for experiencing awe—the emotion we feel when encountering vastness that challenges our understanding of the world. Research by Virginia Sturm shows that deliberately seeking awe—through "awe walks" where we approach our surroundings with fresh eyes and childlike wonder—increases joy, decreases daily distress, and promotes a "small sense of self" that puts our problems in perspective. Winter's special qualities—the vastness of a starry night sky, the transformative power of snow, the dancing northern lights—create abundant possibilities for awe, providing another dimension to our emotional experience of the season. By intentionally creating environments and experiences that nurture these positive emotional states, we transform winter from a time of limitation to one of special pleasure. We discover that happiness doesn't always require excitement and stimulation—sometimes it's found in stillness, warmth, and the gentle glow of candlelight.

Chapter 5: Getting Outside: Overcoming Avoidance and Finding Outdoor Joy

One of the most transformative winter mindset shifts involves our approach to outdoor activities. When temperatures drop and darkness falls, many of us instinctively retreat indoors. This avoidance is driven by several limiting beliefs: that you can't go outside in "bad" weather, that outdoor winter activities will be unpleasant, and that cold air is unhealthy. These assumptions feel like facts but are actually culturally influenced mindsets. People in places with harsh winters know that outdoor activity isn't just possible in winter—it's essential. As Alice Qannik Glenn from Utqiaġvik, Alaska explains, "People know that if you just stay inside all winter, considering how long it is, you'll go crazy." The Scandinavian saying, "There's no such thing as bad weather, only bad clothing," reflects this pragmatic approach. Proper winter attire—moisture-wicking base layers, insulating middle layers, and waterproof outer shells—can make almost any weather tolerable. Our expectations about how unpleasant outdoor activities will feel are often inaccurate. Psychologists call this "affective forecasting error"—our tendency to misjudge how future experiences will make us feel. Studies show we consistently overestimate how negative unpleasant situations will be. When it comes to winter, we look out from warm homes and imagine bitter cold, but once outside and moving, our bodies generate heat and our perspective shifts. Anthony Taylor, who works with immigrant communities in Minnesota, describes how people are shocked when they find themselves overheating outdoors on days they'd perceived as "too cold." Contrary to common belief, cold air isn't inherently unhealthy. In Scandinavia, the opposite view prevails—cold is seen as invigorating and beneficial, especially for children. Norwegian schools hold recess outdoors regardless of weather, and babies in Nordic countries routinely nap outside in winter, bundled in appropriate clothing. This exposure to fresh air is believed to strengthen the immune system and improve sleep—beliefs increasingly supported by research. Once we overcome these limiting beliefs, we can develop strategies to increase our motivation for winter outdoor activities. Norwegian friluftsliv ("open-air life") provides a model for connecting with nature year-round. This cultural value emphasizes experiencing nature holistically, using your own body for movement, and approaching outdoor activities with the right mindset rather than focusing on specific activities or destinations. Three powerful motivational strategies can help us get outside more in winter. First, focus on short-term rewards rather than long-term benefits. Research by Kaitlin Woolley shows that immediate enjoyment is a stronger motivator than distant health outcomes. Second, practice wise self-compassion by recognizing patterns—noticing how outdoor activity actually makes you feel versus how you expect it to feel. Finally, leverage social support—studies show that hills literally appear less steep when we have a friend beside us, and winter adventures create uniquely strong bonds. Getting outside in winter isn't just about enduring the elements—it's about discovering a different kind of enjoyment. The crisp air, the quiet of snow-covered landscapes, the satisfaction of moving your body despite the cold—these experiences offer rewards unavailable in other seasons. By shifting our mindset from avoidance to approach, we unlock winter's outdoor potential and expand our seasonal possibilities.

Chapter 6: Winter Bathing: Health Benefits of Hot and Cold Immersion

Winter offers unique opportunities for temperature-based bathing practices that deliver substantial physical and psychological benefits. In Japan, daily hot-water immersion is a cultural cornerstone, with 70% of people bathing daily in winter. This isn't merely for cleanliness—Japanese bathers soak to warm their bodies, recover from fatigue, relax, and improve sleep. Research supports these cultural practices: regular hot-water bathing is associated with decreased risk of heart disease, stroke, and all-cause mortality. It improves cardiovascular function, lowers blood pressure, and helps regulate blood sugar. Evening baths 30-120 minutes before bedtime trigger a natural temperature regulation response that improves sleep quality and efficiency. Saunas represent another powerful winter wellness practice. In Finland, with one sauna for every two people, these wooden sweat boxes are considered necessities rather than luxuries. The Finnish saying "All are created equal, but nowhere more so than in a sauna" reflects how the practice strips away social hierarchies—everyone is equally naked and sweaty. Beyond cultural significance, sauna bathing has remarkable health effects. Regular use reduces risk of heart attack, stroke, dementia, and Alzheimer's disease. It improves circulation, boosts immune function, and alleviates conditions from arthritis to asthma. The cardiovascular stress of sauna bathing resembles moderate exercise, delivering similar benefits for those who might struggle with traditional workouts. Perhaps most surprising is the explosion of interest in winter swimming—immersing oneself in frigid water during winter months. From Tromsø to Finland to the UK, this practice has passionate advocates who claim it provides unparalleled mental clarity and mood enhancement. Science increasingly supports these anecdotal reports. Cold-water immersion releases endorphins, dopamine, serotonin, and norepinephrine—a potent cocktail of feel-good neurochemicals that create a natural high. Regular cold exposure also stimulates the development of brown adipose tissue (brown fat), which burns calories to generate heat. Once thought to exist primarily in babies, research now shows adults can develop this metabolically active tissue through cold exposure, improving temperature regulation and potentially protecting against diabetes and heart disease. What makes these practices particularly valuable is their combination of immediate pleasure and long-term health benefits. Hot baths are immediately relaxing while improving cardiovascular health. Saunas provide both social connection and physiological stress reduction. Even the initial shock of cold-water immersion gives way to an exhilarating endorphin rush that can elevate mood for days. Rather than viewing health practices as unpleasant necessities, winter bathing teaches us that wellness can be enjoyable and indulgent. The Finnish approach to winter swimming offers wisdom applicable to many health practices. When asked how often to swim or how long to stay in, my Finnish host Antti simply advised: "No instructions. Just stay in as long as feels good." This intuitive approach—listening to our bodies rather than following rigid protocols—allows for personalization while maintaining consistency. By finding pleasure in practices that support our wellbeing, we're more likely to continue them long-term, creating sustainable patterns of health rather than cycles of deprivation and indulgence. Through hot and cold immersion, winter teaches us that doing what feels good can also be what's good for us—a lesson with implications far beyond the bathing experience itself.

Chapter 7: Building Winter-Friendly Communities: Infrastructure and Cultural Change

Our individual winter experiences don't occur in isolation—they're shaped by the infrastructure, policies, and cultural attitudes of the places we live. In Tromsø, winter enjoyment is facilitated by cleared roads, well-lit paths, and buildings designed for cold weather. As my Norwegian colleague Joar told me, "It's about the right things in the right places." When cities are built to accommodate winter rather than fight against it, the season becomes less of an obstacle and more of an opportunity. This principle was central to Edmonton, Canada's transformation into a winter-loving city. When city councilor Ben Henderson began the WinterCity initiative, Edmonton was like many North American cities—enduring rather than embracing its long, cold winters. Henderson posed a simple question: "What would it take to make you fall in love with winter?" The resulting strategy addressed four dimensions: Winter Life (outdoor recreation and activities), Winter Design (city planning with winter in mind), Winter Economy (winter festivals and businesses), and Winter Story (changing how people talk about and perceive winter). Winter-friendly infrastructure makes a tremendous difference in seasonal quality of life. Cities like Oulu, Finland prioritize clearing bike paths over roads, allowing year-round cycling. Heated sidewalks in Tromsø, Reykjavík, and Holland, Michigan prevent ice formation, making winter walking safer and more pleasant. Public facilities like saunas, geothermal pools, and warming huts along trails provide respite from the cold. Even small design considerations—ensuring new buildings face the sun, using light creatively to brighten dark days, and installing fire pits in public spaces—can transform how people experience winter. Winter festivals represent another powerful community approach. From Tromsø's International Film Festival to Edmonton's Flying Canoë Volant to Minnesota's Great Northern, these celebrations give people something to look forward to during the coldest, darkest months. They draw people outdoors, create community connections, and shift the narrative about what's possible in winter. In Edmonton, the Flying Canoë Volant Festival grew from 3,500 attendees in 2012 to over 40,000 in 2017, demonstrating the hunger for winter-specific cultural events. Perhaps most importantly, changing a community's winter story requires deliberate attention to language and imagery. Edmonton's tourism board launched campaigns with slogans like "Cold? Yes. Dark? Yes. Boring? Never." Media engagement included working with local weather forecasters to speak more positively about winter conditions. These efforts recognize that cultural change happens through shifting the stories we tell about our experiences. The WinterCity approach demonstrates that mindsets can be changed at both individual and community levels. By addressing infrastructure limitations while simultaneously shifting cultural narratives, cities can create environments where positive wintertime mindsets naturally flourish. This holistic approach recognizes that while individual mindset change is powerful, it's even more effective when supported by cultural context—what psychologists call the "seed and soil" model of intervention. This understanding of how community shapes experience extends beyond winter. The same principles—designing spaces that facilitate rather than hinder desired behaviors, creating meaningful community gatherings, and consciously shifting cultural narratives—apply to addressing many social challenges. By learning how to build winter-friendly communities, we gain insights into creating more livable, connected spaces year-round.

Summary

At its core, this exploration of winter psychology reveals a profound truth: our experience of winter—and indeed of life itself—is shaped not just by external circumstances but by our mindsets about those circumstances. By shifting from viewing winter as a dreary season of limitation to seeing it as a time rich with unique opportunities, we transform not only our seasonal experience but our approach to challenge more broadly. The practices that help us thrive in winter—anticipating positively, embracing rest, creating coziness, seeking awe, venturing outdoors despite discomfort, and finding pleasure in temperature contrasts—build resilience that serves us in all seasons, literal and metaphorical. This winter journey invites deeper questions about how we relate to the natural world and its rhythms. What might we gain by aligning more closely with seasonal cycles rather than fighting against them? How might slowing down in winter enhance our productivity and creativity in spring? Where else in our lives might shifting our mindset—our core assumptions about how things work—reveal new possibilities? Whether you're experiencing a geographic winter or a winter season in your personal life, these psychological tools offer pathways not just to endurance but to genuine appreciation. As we learn to find opportunity in darkness and cold, we discover that seasons we once merely survived can become times we actively savor.

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Kari Leibowitz

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