“Even in the cold months of January and February, the Danes are hard to beat – some even seek colder heights in Norway and Sweden for skiing. These dark months of biting frost are, however, still lit from within by the warm, homey light that the Danes love, yet now with a light somewhat dimmer and more silent than during the festive season of Christmas.

But suddenly two months have passed since winter solstice, and you realise to your delight that daylight hours have increased considerably. And then we start to dream of spring and the first sprouting flowers and herbs that emerge from the frozen ground in March.” From Visit Denmark

A long time has passed since I had to deal with weather of any sort; living in Santa Monica, California is a blessing and curse like that. It’s one weather dressing, flip flops year round with just a sweater needed for warmth. Scarves are for decoration and rain becomes a novelty.

Winter was a charming holiday activity; each year for my February birthday I’d go back to Europe, playing in a sudden snow storm without care, lounging by the fire with family, find reasons to dash into every cafe after walking outside for only a few moments. It was on these holiday trips where I’d stop and think, “I could do this. I could live this way forever.” And upon returning to the heat and generic weather of my newly adopted home town, I’d start fantasizing about moving somewhere that would have winter and all the hyggelig things I’d do in them.

However, the reality of going through my first real winter in years (after living in a combination of California, the mild Northwest and hot Texas) has been a little different than my romanticised, on-holiday dreams (isn’t that always the case?). I’ve had to realise that I actually do need sweaters, a puffy winter coat and gloves that are more than just for decoration. That shoveling snow isn’t so fun after the first foot and that being snowed in (while charming when you’ve nowhere to go), can be slightly isolating. Long walks are replaced by quick ones from car to home and the dog park is replaced by quick ‘business’ trips to the backyard. And while sun, warmth and beach seem to be that of youth, long dark, cold days seem to make a person feel a little older and heavier.

Call it the winter blues or adjusting still to a new city. Whatever the word, my first official winter has been a challenge. But since I am here with no escaping the winter (until my birthday next month when I’ll take a warm holiday thank you very much!) I’ve been actively trying to incorporate the charm of winter I found on holidays into my day to day life. I took being able to do that for granted when I lived in warm, colourful, lively places – my mood and surroundings were more open to it. But with the heaviness of winter, I have to be more conscious of how I’m doing and living and what I can do to get through until the robins come back and flip flops are in order.

This, of course, has had me thinking a great deal about Hygge, a word I think, that really derives from winters. When people felt the need to get cosy, to feel good and secure, to indulge in good food, relax, and get through the dark and cold days. It’s why you often see bulbs sprouting paper whites in windows everywhere in Denmark in January and February and now, in my home too. The bit of greenery and sweet scent reminds me that it is possible to grow during this time.

And so, I’ve made a few changes to my daily life to help me get through winter.

Candles, while always important in my home, have become even more so. I’ve bought large, beautiful mercury glass containers with non-scented candles so that my home has a warm, cosy glow in the evening starting at about 5 or 6. In fact, in most rooms, the lights never go on. It’s simply candle light. This has really helped my natural body rhythms unwind. If I do use scented candles, I’ve been leaning towards fireplace scents (vanilla and patchouli) which seem to fill the room with instant warmth and cosy.

Usually a tea drinker, I’ve found myself having a warm cup of coffee in the morning. Although I’ve long tooted my love of my french press and Urth Coffee, I bought a small personal coffee machine which has brews a pretty good cup in 3 minutes – something essential when the floors are cold and you just need warmth to help you wake up (this is also perhaps one of the reasons Danes drink so much). Although I initially bought the machine for guests, I’ve given in. Summers are for the press, winter mornings are for quickness. I do, however, still have tea in the afternoons. I’ll drink as much warmth as I can but I need that slow brew process in the afternoon.

I’ve always been a fan of hot food over cold (I am the kind of girl who will eat soup on a scorching summer day) and that’s no different now. What is, is that I’ve been doing a lot of slow cooking. My Whole Foods runs for dinners have almost stopped and cooking and reheating leftovers has taken it’s place. Not only has this been great for the pocketbook and staying in shape when I’ve been less active in my daily life (not eating processed food has been huge for me), but the rhythm of cooking, of feeling invested in what I’m doing and not rushed, has made the dark 6-7PM hour a little sweeter.

When two feet of snow arrived a couple of weeks ago, I took early morning and late night walks through town in it. I stopped in several cafe’s for coffee or hot apple cider. I took a horse-drawn carriage ride through downtown Philadelphia – for an hour, in 29F weather! But bundled up and learning the history of my new town, I felt like a happy tourist instead of a bitter local waiting for spring. And yes, I totally grabbed a coffee after that!

I ordered flannel sheets.

So while there are some adjustments that have been harder to make (investing in winter gear, living in a totally heated, dry house, not walking outside as much as I’d like, missing light and warmth), I’m hopeful that by incorporating more hygge into winter, I’ll get through it just fine.

Although, between you and me, summer can’t come quick enough!

There are many reasons why I don’t post often; I’ve never been able to in the 15 years I’ve kept a blog, I’ve been extraordinarily busy, I’ve felt I haven’t had anything of value to say, the design/concept of this blog hasn’t inspired me.

I’m working on a new layout and idea for Hygge House which may or may not work. It’s a slow process but a snow day has given me some time to muck about. So things might be broken and confusing for a little bit as I sort through it all and also try to figure out for myself what this is all for, a mission statement if you will.

So until then, I apologise for leaving you in the dark. I hope to turn the light on soon.

Growing up I didn’t have access to malls, big supermarkets or mass retailers and so there would be frequent trips into town with my mum. We’d stop at the butcher (who knew what kind of cuts we liked and, when money was tight would add a few pieces of salami for us, no charge), the fish market (actually, we’d go down to the docks and buy it off the boat), the five & dime type store (for buttons, thread, or a magazine). There was a high-end womens retailer that my mum would go in, if only to pet and dream about the pretty things and a toy shop where I’d do the same.

More often than not, we’d see our neighbours in these shops or the shop owners would be our friends whose children I’d go to school with or whose husbands my father would do business with. We were all connected which meant we were generally friendly, helpful and dependent on one another.

Over the years my moving and the change modern shopping has held me back from shopping as locally as I did as a child. I found online shopping so much easier since I don’t like malls and bargain hunting. And once in America, where supermarkets and giant retailers were taking over, the need to go from shop to shop – and person to person – seemed like a hassle.

But several years ago, when I was sick of complaining about the lack of service at Home Depot and the practices of Walmart, I began to change my habits and went old school.

My current neighbourhood in Philadelphia, which has been around since the 1700’s and pretty much unchanged since the 1800’s, operates in the old-fashioned local way. In the 60’s, the community saw its businesses closing and the landscape starting to slowly change so residents and business owners worked hard together to save their local shops, to save their friends businesses, to save that connection that was being replaced by anonymous shopping.

Now, we have a butcher, a baker, and yes, a candlestick maker. There’s also a cheese shop, an organic dry cleaner, a camera store, a paint shop – all small, private and locally owned. And busy.

The other day I strolled up to main street, walked into a local cafe for a coffee, and then as I sat outside and sipped it, watched the town wake up. As the clock struck 9AM, the store doors began to open and one by one the owners came out to sweep their store fronts. next, then the locals started to come through those doors as the shopkeepers greeted them by name.

“Hullo Ms. McCormick – got that cheese in.”

“Did you get caught out in that storm last night, Teddy?”

“Isn’t this a gorgeous morning? I need a bigger regular today to go out in it!”

Sitting there, taking it all in, I could have sworn I was in a movie. It had been far too long since I’d been in this kind of environment, the kind where shops really knew your name and your dollar made a difference because the owner didn’t just sell you cold cuts, he was also your neighbour, a tax payer, a potential employer. Maybe even a friend. And that’s worth an extra dollar to me or an extra ten minutes out of my day.

Now, I’ve a healthy balance between supporting my local shops (not just financially but personally connecting and recommending) and shopping mass retailers (Amazon is still really easy for me to get products that can be harder to find or I don’t feel like lugging home). I shop at Whole Foods, a mass retailer of food, but buy the local product within it as much as possible. But Saturdays I buy from the local farmers market in Rittenhouse Square.

I’m more often than not a middle ground kind of girl; looking at all my options and doing what’s best for me, my community and my pocketbook. Sometimes that’s supporting my local shop, sometimes it’s ordering online. Balancing my needs with that of my community. Which isn’t too hard when you get find what works, especially when you consider the benefits all around.

I have always been a fall kind of girl which is why, come every September since 2004 when I moved to Los Angeles, I’d start to crave a road trip out east. While so many dream of seeing Paris in the spring time, I always wanted to see the east coast in Fall.

And this year I was finally able to do that thanks to my move to Pennsylvania. Scarfs and woolly throws finally made sense once again and my camera had lots of reasons to click.

Standing in my yard, watching the squirrels prepare for winter (and listening to them crack and dump chestnuts onto the ground below), watching leaves literally fall for hours and hiking with my dog, Jack, in golden colours – well, it’s been amazing, comforting, inspiring… beautiful. Each day seems different which is something that I didn’t like about living in perfect year round weather (she says before winter comes – I’m not a huge winter lover) and being aware of that difference has helped me to feel more inline with the week and somehow relax against its rhythms.

I find myself looking for places to escape to each weekend; a train trip to see the foliage, a park to walk through the leaves, pumpkin patches, cafe’s with apple cider, nurseries, puddles to jump in. And during the week, I just take it all in.

Pink of Perfection has a great little post on cosying up for fall and This is Glamorous has some inspiring images, too. I think am going to try to do each one of them. What about you? Any fall favourites you have (outside of Halloween) that you love to do? And if you’re fall-challenged like I was, how do you deal with 80F/25C weather when sweaters are popping up everywhere?