Turning of the Year: Friends, Food, and the Winter Solstice

The solstices have always held a special place in my heart. Maybe it’s because my best friend and other half was born on the Summer Solstice, making these celestial markers a family tradition of sorts. Once you start noticing them, it’s hard to stop. Each year, they arrive like an old friend, reminding us of the Earth’s rhythms and our place in its grand cycle.

December 21 marks the Winter Solstice. The shortest day, the longest night. This astronomical event is a pause in the cycle, a reminder that even in the depths of winter, light is on its way. It’s subtle, almost unassuming, but there’s power in its simplicity.

The Winter Solstice has been celebrated for thousands of years, and its significance spans continents and cultures. I read that Stonehenge’s massive stones align perfectly with the setting sun on the solstice. Imagine ancient observers standing there, watching the light slip through the stones like a precise promise carved in the sky. There’s also Newgrange in Ireland, where a narrow passage lights up with the sun’s first rays on this day—a feat of engineering and faith in equal measure.

In college, I remember learning about the Norse Yule celebrations. Long before holiday lights and Christmas markets, the people of Scandinavia lit great fires, decorated evergreens, and feasted in honor of the rebirth of the sun. My planetary physics professor, who loves tracing the origins of traditions, told us about the Roman festival of Saturnalia. It was a time of revelry, gifts, and role reversals—a nod to the chaotic yet hopeful energy of the solstice season.

Even today, many traditions quietly echo these ancient celebrations. Lighting candles, gathering around fires, or even something as simple as watching the sun set early can feel like tapping into something timeless.

In the spirit of Yule, I recently came across something delightful: a "Yule Spell in a Mug" tea blend from @LovebyLuna. It’s a simple yet symbolic winter solstice ritual in the form of a comforting black tea. The ingredients are thoughtfully chosen—honey for positivity, orange for love and success, cinnamon for happiness and prosperity, cardamom for courage and enthusiasm, cloves for clarity and protection, all steeped in black tea for strength. The idea of sipping something so purposefully crafted feels like a modern nod to ancient traditions. It’s a small but meaningful way to honor the solstice, and I’m sharing it here in case it sparks your own sense of wonder or ritual :-)

I’ve been thinking about how the solstice speaks to our friendships and connections. A few years back, we spent a solstice evening with friends, enjoying a late-night spot just outside the city. The place was unassuming, but the food was comforting, and the company even more so. On the drive back, we stopped to gaze up at the stars, away from the city lights. Those brief moments of stillness—the crisp air, the quiet awe—were as meaningful as any grand celebration. The darkness made us more aware of the little comforts: shared stories, a good meal, and the distant gleam of stars overhead.

This year, I’ll probably mark the solstice in a quieter way. Maybe I’ll light a candle by the window or text a few friends to remind them to look up at the night sky. Small gestures, but they feel fitting for a day that’s more about presence than spectacle. There’s something grounding about it, especially as the year winds down and we prepare for another turn around the sun.

If you’re reading this, I hope the solstice brings you a moment of stillness. Maybe it’s a chance to pause, to share a laugh with a friend, or simply to appreciate the quiet beauty of the season—and maybe even take a moment to argue whether that star you’re seeing is Venus or just a plane. Either way, brighter days are ahead.