An Ode to Winter

Magic, Secrets & Encounters with Winter Beasts

Jan 05, 2026

Happy 2026 dear souls.

Here we are in the dead of winter and in the time (sadly and frustratingly) of new years resolution pressures and lofty expectations to reinvent yourself after 2 weeks of festivities and gorging unapologetically on your favourite foods. Since my last Substack article I have been wholly silent here on this platform, and I wouldn’t be surprised if your respective algorithms completely erase me from sight, but if this post has landed in your email inbox this fine Monday morning then I hope it’ll give you a pleasant start to your week.

For many of us - myself included - this first Monday of January signals the back-to- work-day, when we all collectively drag ourselves from bed at what feels like an ungodly hour to throw ourselves back into the rhythm of work life. I feel rather lucky not to have a boss to report to, and have chosen to begin this important morning writing this Substack to all of you - to reconnect and say hello in this dark, wintery chapter of our year.

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A January Haiku

So where have I been?
In the mountains with reindeer 
And inside my mind

My mind has been occupied these last few months with a rather gargantuan writing project of a different nature - which I promise will be shared more widely later this year. Like a rapidly growing infant it has demanded more and more of my time - keeping me up all hours and leaving me little energy for any other writing to fill the gaps. Soon enough, this creative baby shall be born into the world and I’ll be able to share my labours of love with you all. So sit tight. Exciting things are on the horizon in 2026.

Betwixmas adventures - spending the in-between days collecting hagstones & admiring winter sunsets

𓆱 A wild encounter 𓆱

In early December, some work took me deep into the Cairngorm mountains for a few days - to traverse the snowy mountain peaks and film a midwinter folktale.

Myself and my partner had just wrapped up filming across several hours - and were keen to return to the warmth of our parked car and open a flask of tea. We gathered our equipment together and walked our stiff and frozen limbs up the winding mountain path - when something in the distance caught my eye.

On the wide open ridge beyond the valley, a white figure was emerging onto the horizon - standing out against the russet browns of the winter mountains. The first figure was quickly followed by another, then another - a whole fluid movement of pale dots on the crest of the hill. I immediately set down the equipment I was carrying and called out in a hushed whisper

“Look, the Reindeers!”

The Cairngorm Reindeer herd, introduced into the expansive landscapes of the mountain park in 1952 by Sami herder Mikel Utsi - are the UK’s only herd of wild, free roaming reindeer. After travelling to Scotland, Mr. Utsi found the lichen-rich landscapes of the Cairngorms were similar to his native home of northern Sweden and suspected that reindeers would thrive there. After a few experimental years, Mr. Utsi and his wife Dr. Lindgren successfully introduced a herd of reindeer to the slopes of the Cairngorms. The herd now numbers around 150, who roam the wild mountain fells across the Glenlivet estate.

We had driven past the Cairngorm Reindeer Centre on our way to location mere hours earlier - and it had reminded me of the brilliant book I had read by Tilly Smith. ‘How amazing it would be to see the reindeer’ I had thought to myself as we sped past. Perhaps I unknowingly sent out a request to the universe.

We stood fixated and utterly enchanted, as the outlines of the herd poured across the ridge and made their way down into the valley. In what felt like minutes they were surrounding us entirely - close enough to reach out and touch their soft beige-white fur. They pawed their way through the frozen earth with deft and silent steps, and we listened to their snuffling breathing sounds as their soft snouts searched out the mineral-rich lichen below. I crouched down, trying to make myself less imposing, and watched in wonderment as these extraordinary creatures moved around us. Occasionally, one or two reindeers looked up, their eyes peering at us inquisitively. They held such a unique expression of both curiosity and hesitancy - probably a vital combination for creatures who often encounter wild humans wandering through their terrain.

We couldn’t resist snapping a few pictures - and stayed for an hour in the gentle presence of these winter beasts until our hands were red and frozen. I didn’t want to leave, and wondered if I could just stay forever in this magical bubble - with only the reindeers for company. Eventually the reindeers themselves wandered right into the car park where our car was, as if to say; alright you strange creatures, that’s enough now. Get back into your metal box and warm up. You have no fur like ours to insulate your skin from this cold.

Reluctantly we relented, and said goodbye to the reindeers - wishing them a fruitful winter in the mountains. As we blasted the heating and defrosted ourselves, we shared a final glance out the window at the herd - who moved like guardians through the landscape, and brought the brown solidity of the hills to life.

❆ Winter Folkales ❆

This dark and magical season has offered up a fresh batch of inspiration for my ongoing storytelling residency with small-batch perfumers, Ffern. We’ve travelled from the misty shores of the Isle of Man, to the snowy mountains of Iceland to bring you tales and treasures for this winter season - from the fluttering wingbeats of moths to the mischievous misgivings of the yule lads…

If you’ve missed any of these recent instalments, then brew yourself a cup of tea and enjoy a few minutes of folklore.

A little secret - just for you ⋆⁺₊

During the cold, icy months of winter, it feels strange to reminisce on the summer - a season which feels like an impossible dream with its long days and warm sunshine. Earlier this year, in the balmy days of August, I travelled to a tiny island in the west of Scotland to meet a friend, and embark on something new.

I spent a magical day in the company of highland cows, lots of midges and a team of brilliantly creative folk - and we all put our heads together to brew up something special which I’m super excited to share with you all. I’ll be sharing more widely about this soon, but for those of you who have made it to the corner of this substack, you get a head-start into the magic.

Findings 𓇢𓆸

A list of things I’ve been enjoying these past months. Perhaps you will too.

Helm - Sarah Hall

Reindeer: An Arctic Life - Tilly Smith

A Winter Solstice Song - by Blair Coron

The Clearing Podcast - Katherine May

Yule - Teitur

That’s all from me for now folks. I’d love to hear about your own wintery reflections and moments in the comments below. Perhaps a little haiku? Go for it, let’s chat ⋆⁺₊

- Yours, Morvern