Winter Nights
I’m longing for some quiet time around a warm fire on a cold Winter’s night. Or to sit on small leather bound stools, shoulder to shoulder with close friends whilst sipping hot whiskey in the snug of a bar. Some familiar marker of the Winter season. It doesn’t exist here in Guatemala. Instead of frost strewn hills we have smoking volcanoes, instead of howling winds a sun blazing high in a cobalt sky, painting the volcanic peaks with golden light. I find myself seeking shade, fanning away the heat. The vibrant colors of the landscape and the hum of life around the lake offer their own kind of magic. It’s beautiful, but in its unfamiliarity, I feel the pull of the winter traditions I grew up with—those small, comforting markers of home.
Winter in Ireland is a season of long nights and short days. A time when the Caillach reigns supreme upon the land, the old hag of Winter settles in, and the promise of Spring, when Brigid pulls her cloak of new life across the earth, a distant dream away. Here in Lake Atitlán, mid-December feels like an entirely different world.
It’s in this contrast—between the frosted hills of Ireland and the smoking volcanoes of Lake Atitlán—that I find myself reflecting on the passage of time and the places that have shaped me. These thoughts feel particularly poignant now, as I mark a satisfying milestone in my journey as a writer. Over the last few years, I have been working on a collection of travel stories, stories from 10 years ago and more, that I am calling All Our Wandering, Volume 1. I just received the completed manuscript back from my proof-reader in the U.K. Her feedback was very encouraging. I am now ready to hire someone to format the book for KDP (Kindle Direct Publishing) and have the front cover and interior designed. This is all very exciting for me. I’m brimming with enthusiasm to begin volume 2 and to complete this piece of work that has been brewing in me for some time.
"All Our Wandering" is a collection of travel stories spanning a decade, chronicling the formative years of my late twenties to mid-thirties. These tales delve into the transformative power of travel, exploring the way it shapes our identities, challenges our perceptions, and redefines what we call home. The book reflects on the essence of belonging, how stepping beyond the familiar to embrace the unknown changes us. It’s a journey of self-discovery, and one that I hope will invite readers to reflect on their own path. None of the stories are set in Ireland however, nor Guatemala. Hence it being volume 1. It’s a short collection but one I am very proud of. I look forward to releasing it into the world early in the new year. Watch this space!
Travel has shifted for me over the years. At 45, the restless energy of backpacking no longer holds the same appeal it once did. From my late thirties onward, I found myself longing more for a sense of home—a base, a connection to a place. This push and pull between the lure of a new destination and the grounding need for home has been a constant dynamic in my life. I used to see them as opposing forces, battling for dominance, but over time, I realized they can complement and support each other. Now, Guatemala feels like a home to me. I have a place here, a community, and a role in its rhythm of life. It challenges me and nourishes me in ways that Ireland—my roots—does not. For now, the dance between my home in Ireland and my life in Guatemala is in harmony, each one enriching the other and bringing balance to my journey.
Looking ahead, this evolving relationship between Ireland and Guatemala will take center stage in Volume 2 of All Our Wandering - or so I expect, for books have a tendency to take their own course. These stories will explore not only the landscapes of these two places but also the inner transformations they have sparked within me. These are themes I have already touched upon in my Substack here. Ireland is steeped in tradition and familiarity, Guatemala, alive with possibility, it has a vibrant energy. Each has played a role in my journey. Ultimately, it’s a story of finding balance, not just between places, but between who I’ve been and who I’m becoming.
In the northern hemisphere, winter is a time of death and rebirth, of hibernation and preparation for the spring to come. In Celtic tradition, the new year doesn’t begin on January 1st but at Samhain, on November 1st. Though I find myself under Guatemala’s blazing sun, far from frostbitten fields and long winter nights, I too feel this moment of transition. It’s a time to honor the year gone by, to take stock of its lessons, and to hold space for the possibilities of the year ahead.
As I prepare to release All Our Wandering, Volume 1, into the world, I find myself poised between past and future—reflecting on the journeys that shaped me. Winter, even here in this land of eternal spring, offers a reminder to pause, to turn inward, and to prepare for the next chapter.
If you feel this same pull toward reflection, I invite you to try this: carve out some quiet moments, grab a notebook, and write out twelve questions—one for each month of the year. Let these questions guide you as you look back on the year that’s passed and dream forward into the year to come. Here are a few to get you started:
What was the most transformative experience I had this year?
Which moments brought me the most joy?
What challenges did I face, and what did I learn from them?
Is there something I need to let go of before stepping into the new year?
Who or what am I most grateful for this year?
How have I grown emotionally, spiritually, or mentally?
What relationships have deepened, and which ones have shifted?
What habits or practices have served me well this year?
What do I want to carry forward into the new year?
What dreams or goals do I want to cultivate in the year ahead?
How can I better nurture my sense of home and belonging?
What is one word or theme I want to guide me in the year to come?
Take your time with these questions, allowing your answers to unfold naturally. They are not only a way to honor your journey but a way to set your intentions for the next step on the path.
Winter blessings one and all