In Winter, we rest.

When I was a kid, starting about this time of year, my dad would find a piece of scrap paper and label two columns on it: the date and “minutes gained.” Each few days after that, he would look up the time of the sunrise and sunset, add up how many minutes of daylight we gained, and make a note of it (+0, +1, +3!!!). He’d do this until winter loosened its grip on us enough that it no longer felt necessary.

I love this ritual—and I’ve also learned to love winter. Before the farm, I’d find myself longing for more warmth during winter months, wishing away the darkness. But the farm has changed how I think about this cold season.

There’s a desperation to a Wyoming summer, a deep need to make the most of the fleeting sun. We all do our best to fit camping, gardening, biking, fishing, cook outs, hiking, running and more into each of those long days. On the farm, we work from sun up to grow a year’s worth of food in a few short months. We—as a farm and as a community—exert a lot of energy over a short period.

And winter is when we rest. We gather, find warmth, and make the most of the short days as we can.

And it turns out, we still have a bit of darkness ahead of us.

This is a chart (I spend a fair bit of time in google spreadsheets these days ) showing the cumulative number of minutes of daylight we gain each day. We don’t make up much for the next month—we’re still in the dark. This means you still have permission to rest, hang out by a fire, read a book, watch a movie, do nothing!

By mid-February, the world starts to wake up again. The 10th-ish of February marks the end of the Persephone days (the green line), when there is enough light that plants start growing under the right conditions (kale and snapdragons in the tunnels and seedlings in the prop house). It’s still winter but movement makes more sense.

And then, before we know it, we’ll meet spring (hopefully) feeling rested and ready for another season.

For now, stay cozy, find light where you can, and revel in the rest and quiet, knowing—day by day, minute by minute—the sun will return.