Marking the Solstice: Craft, Light and the Turning Year
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
By Robert Frost (1874-1963)
On 21 December, we reach the winter solstice — the shortest day and longest night of the year. It is a quiet turning point, a moment to pause before the slow return of light begins. As the year draws inward, many of us close the curtains a little earlier, light a lamp or fire, and seek warmth in both our surroundings and our routines.
The solstice has long been associated with reflection and rest. With nature momentarily still, our attention turns indoors, where long evenings offer the gift of time. These darker hours are well suited to craft — to making patiently, working with care, and finding comfort in the steady rhythm of hands at work. Whether knitting, stitching, mending or baking, crafting allows us to slow down and reconnect with traditions rooted in continuity and attention.
At this time of year, handmade objects take on particular significance. To create something by hand is to invest time, focus and care — qualities that feel especially precious during the festive season. A scarf knitted stitch by stitch, a quilt pieced together over many evenings, or a familiar recipe prepared with care all carry traces of the maker within them. These are gifts that hold warmth far beyond their material form.
Craft also offers a counterpoint to the season’s rush. It invites a gentler rhythm, one that mirrors the turning of the year itself. As the solstice marks the depth of winter, making becomes an act of quiet optimism — a way of honouring darkness while welcoming the gradual return of light.
To mark the solstice, we invite you to take a look at our free craft projects shared here, to accompany these reflective days. They are an invitation to slow down, to make with intention, and to find comfort in the process as much as in the finished piece.
As the light begins its slow return, may this season be a celebration of craft, care and the enduring beauty of objects shaped by human hands.
*ERRATA:
Our apologies to those who received this poem in our Solstice emailer with formatting issues, which led to the text being jumbled.
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Image Credits:
Lead Image: Catterline in Winter 1963 (Detail) by Joan Earldey.
Joan Kathleen Harding Eardley (1921–1963) was one of Scotland’s most admired and enduringly popular artists, celebrated for her powerful portraits of Glasgow street children and her expressive landscapes of Catterline on the North-East coast of Scotland.
Her career unfolded in three distinct phases: early training at the Glasgow School of Art in the 1940s; an intense focus on Glasgow’s Townhead area between 1950 and 1957; and, in her final years, an immersion in the elemental seascapes and cottages of Catterline.
Renting a cottage there from 1954, Eardley captured the village’s clifftop houses— including her own former home at No. 1 South Row which can be seen on the far left of the painting, seemingly braced against North Sea winds and winter storms.
Eardley’s work continues to be rediscovered and deeply felt by new generations, its emotional force and painterly freedom remaining strikingly contemporary. This renewed attention is reflected in Joan Eardley, The Nature of Painting, which will be on show at Modern Two, National Galleries of Scotland, from 2 April to 28 June 2026.