The Art of Staying In

Why cosy, home-based seasons are valuable — and how creativity helps us thrive.

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A Quiet January Reflection

I turn forty-seven this month, and while my dancing-till-2-a.m. days aren’t entirely behind me, they’re certainly less frequent. I still love a good night out with friends — a glass of wine, a laugh, maybe a song or two — but more often these days, I find joy in being home.

There’s a deep contentment that comes with a cozy evening: a pot simmering on the stove, music playing softly, the fire glowing. January invites that kind of living — slower, quieter, more rooted in home. And truthfully, that feels just right to me.

After the brightness and bustle of December, the quieter rhythm of early winter feels restorative. Money is often tight, energy is lower, and the world outside is dark by five o’clock. But that doesn’t mean life has to feel dull. It’s an invitation to lean into the magic of staying in — to rediscover the pleasure of creativity, comfort, and simple connection.

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Creativity as a Way of Living

People often tell me, “You’re so creative — I wish I was artistic like that.”
But the truth is, creativity isn’t a talent. It’s a way of seeing, of noticing, of playing.

You don’t have to paint masterpieces or knit jumpers worthy of Pinterest. You just have to let your hands — and your imagination — do something that brings you joy.

I sew (quite well), embroider (terribly, but enthusiastically), paint with watercolours, make cards, design candle labels, and occasionally colour in like a ten-year-old. None of it needs to be perfect. The point is the doing.

When I make candles, I’m fully present: measuring, melting, pouring, labelling — it’s meditative. When I paint, my mind quiets. When I write, I find my thoughts again.
Creativity slows me down in all the best ways. It reminds me that joy doesn’t have to be loud to be alive.

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Home as a Studio, Not a Cage

For years, I thought creativity belonged in studios and workshops. Now I realise: a kitchen table, a quiet corner, or even the sofa counts just as much.

There’s a kind of alchemy in turning your home into a creative space. It changes how you see it — less as somewhere you retreat to, and more as somewhere you expand from.
It might be baking bread, rearranging shelves, planting bulbs, or sketching with your kids. All of it is creative living.

And when you share it — when someone sits beside you, cross-stitching or doodling or simply chatting while you stir candle wax — that’s connection at its most natural.

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The Joy of Home Gatherings

I still love having people in my home. A coffee on a Saturday morning, a glass of wine on a Friday night, a dinner that lasts for hours while laughter fills the kitchen.

There’s something about home gatherings that feels freer than nights out. You can hear one another. You can really talk. You can kick off your shoes, curl up on the sofa, and just be.

I love when guests tuck their feet up under them on the couch — it’s my sign that they feel at ease. That, to me, is success: a home that invites people to exhale.

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A Season for Wonder and Warmth

Staying in doesn’t mean shutting out the world; it means finding wonder within it.
Winter gives us permission to go slower, to savour, to reconnect with what nourishes us.

So light the candles, put on your coziest jumper, pull out the paints or the puzzle or the embroidery hoop. Make a pot of tea and settle in. There’s art in this — the art of being present, the art of creating, the art of staying in.

Chat soon,

Ciara x

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• Creating a Winter Sanctuary at Home
• Slow Living Lessons from the Winter Garden
• Winter Well: Nourishing Mind, Body & Soul