Winter Solstice Rituals: A Modern Guide to the Longest Night
The Winter Solstice arrives tomorrow.
For me, it always meant the end of the year - icy mornings, the scent of woodsmoke, festivities gathering force. I grew up in Cambridgeshire, England, and no matter where I wandered in the world, that place was a kind of homing beacon. Winter Solstice was part of the Christmas constellation: cinnamon, shopping, winter lights, candlelight, sleet against the windows, old stories retold.
But now, here in New Zealand, things are flipped. The Solstice doesn’t mark the year’s closing chapter, it splits the year in two. It’s midsummer in memory, but here it’s the heart of winter. The storms are louder, the skies wilder and yet the energy, somehow, is the same. A seasonal threshold. A turning point. An invitation to pause.
The Winter Solstice, the shortest day and the longest night - is the moment the sun stands still before its return. It’s the Earth’s exhale. The sun enters Cancer (that soft, inward, hearth-loving sign) and we’re offered a gateway inward.
A Solstice Story from the Fens
Let me take you back, before tinsel, before time moved in calendar squares, before the year was split by sale seasons. Back to Cambridgeshire. My childhood home. A place where the land stretches out low and wide, and the mist hangs like breath held in the air. In winter, the fens smell of cold peat and damp earth, of woodsmoke curling from old chimneys, of something older still, a kind of quiet waiting. It’s always been a magical place for me.
I remember my mum talking me to Flag Fen, just outside what’s now Peterborough, ancient people gathered more than 3,000 years ago. They built timber paths across the marshes, places where the land met water, and water met sky. There, they left offerings: shards of pottery, animal bones, even weapons, all laid gently into the water. Not waste, but ritual. Not fear, but reverence. Perhaps it was to honour the ancestors. Perhaps to ask for light. The smoke of their fires would’ve mixed with the mist - sweet, sharp, sacred - rising into the darkness like a whispered spell. I told you that it was a little bit magic.
Further south, at Great Wilbraham, they shaped the land into sacred spaces. Earthworks curved like arms around meeting grounds. I like to imagine them, watching the sky, tracking the sun’s slow crawl, waiting for this night, when it would pause at its lowest point. The solstice. The longest night. A hinge between seasons. A breath between endings and beginnings.
There were no clocks, no electric lights, no headlines. Only fire. Only scent. Only stars. But they knew what we sometimes forget: That in the deepest dark, something always turns. That light returns, not suddenly, but faithfully. That the world is always remaking itself. And we are, too. I feel that is something that we need to remember in the world that we are living in right now.
A New Kind of Ritual
There’s no Christmas frenzy here. No tinsel-draped to-do lists. Which means, there’s space. To reflect. To reconnect. To retreat. Winter asks us to soften, not shrink. To remember what matters. To light the candle anyway.
While the Northern Hemisphere may celebrate with wreaths and wassail, we can craft our own rituals here, rooted in Southern rhythms, but connected to something timeless.
Light a candle at sunset — one for release, one for renewal. Burn a little frankincense or palo santo to clear out the mental clutter. Make a wish. Say it aloud. Whisper it if you must. Write a letter to the version of you that’s ready to emerge. Gather. Even if it’s just your own beautiful self.
In our house, this season has become a sanctuary. Although, trust me, it didn’t use to be! We’ve designed spaces to retreat into, warm nooks for movie nights downstairs, games, quiet creativity. I design my candles for the next season and get creative. I blend essential oils that ground, warm, and purify. We light candles and make wishes with the kids - about what we want to let go of, what we want to grow into. Even the smallest voices have something to wish for.
Finding ways to carry light, when you don’t have traditional celebrations to anchor you, it is everything. Not just to survive winter, but to thrive in it.
Scents to Anchor You Through the Dark
Scent is ancient. It bypasses logic and goes straight to the limbic system, that ancient part of our brain that stores emotion and memory. The right aroma can lift you, soften you, bring you home to yourself.
A few years ago I was lucky enough to hear a talk by some experts at Stamford, they explained how we can use our sense as a signal to our brain - to energise, to soothe, to focus - and even to help the nervous system remember how to return to calm. It was a balm during lockdown and it’s the kind of wisdom we can carry into winter.
Whether you use candles, incense, or diffuser oils, here are some beautiful ways to align scent with time, mood, and ritual:
Morning (Begin & Energise)
Use bright, clarifying notes to awaken the body and mind.
Peppermint – mental clarity, focus
Sweet Orange – joy, uplift
Lemon Rind & Bergamot – cleansing, lightness
Tarragon Leaf – clear thinking, alertness
→ Try while journaling, meditating, planning your day.
Afternoon (Balance & Ground)
As energy dips or scatters, use green and herbaceous scents to recentre.
Juniper – protection, clarity
Eucalyptus – breath, resilience
Cardamom Seed & Clove Bud – warming, energising without overstimulation
Patchouli – grounding, steady focus
→ Try while working, walking, stretching, or brewing tea.
Evening (Unwind & Reflect)
Invoke stillness and surrender with rich, smoky, earthy notes.
Birch Tar & Seaweed – mystery, depth, the edge of the forest and sea
Lavender & Oakmoss – rest, quiet strength
Vetiver Root & Balsam Fir – nervous system calm, inner anchoring
→ Try while lighting candles, bathing, reading, or setting intentions.
These aren’t just aromas, they’re anchors. Ways to remind yourself, every day, that you are allowed to slow down. That the season is meant for depth. And that you can always come back to yourself through scent, stillness, and the small rituals that make life beautiful.
Turn It Into A Ritual
If you’d like a gentle ritual to anchor your evening, I’ve created a set of affirmation cards for moments like this. You can download them here — free, sacred, and made to carry in your pocket. Or, if you’re ready to weave more ritual into your days, join the Ritual Series and step into something deeper.
Let’s carry the light, even on the longest night. Have you got some gorgeous winter rituals? I would love to hear all about them!