The Beauty of the In-Between

Between Winter's Hold and Spring's Whisper

Feb 02, 2025

Welcome to the Michelle Seguin MD newsletter! I’m Dr. Michelle, and I’m so grateful to have you here. As we step into February, we find ourselves in a season of quiet transition—a time of soft preparation and slow unfolding. This week, we’re exploring the beauty of the in-between, embracing this threshold between winter’s stillness and the first whispers of change.

Hello friends,

February holds a quiet kind of magic, a threshold between the deep rest of midwinter and the first whispers of something new. A liminal space. Can you think of other liminal spaces in your life—moments where you feel suspended between what was and what’s next? February is one of those times, inviting us to pause, to notice, and to trust the slow unfolding.

For those of you new to the newsletter, we begin each month with a Living Well with the Seasons essay—a reflection on seasonal rhythms, personal well-being, and the ways we can align our lives with nature’s cycles. These essays are an invitation to slow down, to notice, and to draw inspiration from the shifting world around us.

I hope this one resonates with you.

With gratitude,
Dr. Michelle

The Beauty of the In-Between

There is a certain stillness to February, a kind of waiting that asks for patience. Winter still holds us here in Upper Michigan, firm and unyielding, with snowbanks piled high and ice clinging to every branch. The world is in flux, yet winter’s deep cold hushes the noise.

And yet—something is shifting.

The sun lingers a little longer in the sky giving way to peach-hued sunsets that I swear only appear this time of year. The birds, once silent, resume their native calls. There’s a subtle energy beneath the surface, a quiet awakening that isn’t hurried, but inevitable.

This is the season of the in-between, a time when we are asked to pause, to notice, to trust the slow unfolding. We are still in the heart of winter, but we can sense—if we are paying attention—that the world is preparing for change.

And so, too, are we.

In preparation, this month invites us to clear space—not in a hurried, frantic way, but with quiet intention. Just as nature slowly prepares for the coming shift, we, too, can begin to release what no longer serves us and make space for what is yet to come. This is not the bold decluttering of January resolutions, nor the fresh energy of spring cleaning. Instead, it is something softer—a gentle making room.

Maybe that looks like tending to the corners of our home that feel heavy with winter’s weight—clearing a table, reorganizing a kitchen shelf, or making space for light to enter. Or maybe it’s something more internal—releasing thoughts or habits that feel stagnant, noticing where we’re holding tension, or softening into self-compassion. (If self-compassion feels difficult in this season, I recorded a gentle guided meditation to support you—you can listen to it here).

Clearing isn’t always about doing. Sometimes, it’s about simply recognizing what needs space to breathe. This quiet work of clearing—whether in our homes or in our hearts—isn’t about forcing change, but about creating space for it. Because just like nature, our growth is already happening, even if we can’t yet see it.

And once we’ve cleared space, we begin to imagine what might take root. For those of us who tend the land, February is also a time for dreaming—for spreading out seeds and books on the kitchen table, sketching garden plans, and imagining what will take root when the earth is ready. Just as we plant intentions within ourselves, we lay the groundwork for what will bloom in the months ahead.

As we’ve witnessed through cycles and seasons, there is no rushing nature. The seeds beneath the snow do not force themselves to sprout before they are ready. The trees do not bloom in midwinter, no matter how eager the world is for spring. Everything happens in its own rhythm, aligned with the season.

What if we allowed ourselves that same grace?

What if we trusted that even in stillness, change is happening? That growth does not need to be visible to be real? That we, too, are preparing for renewal in ways we may not yet see?

This is a time to move in alignment with what our bodies, minds, and hearts truly need—not what external pressures demand. Some days, that might look like tending to a new project, but other days, it might mean resting, taking a long walk, or simply watching the late winter sun stretch across the sky.

February offers us permission to move slowly, to trust the unfolding, and to know that preparation is enough.

I’d love to hear—what does this in-between season feel like for you? Are there spaces in your home, garden, or heart that you’re tending to right now? Let’s share and inspire each other in the comments below.

Clearing Spaces, Inside & Out

If you, too, are feeling this threshold space of winter, here are a few simple ways to honor it:

Clear with intention: Choose one small space (a drawer, a bookshelf, a journal page) to clear—not to rid yourself of things, but to create space for something new.
Dream your garden: Pull out your seed catalogs, gardening books, cookbooks, sketch a layout, or simply reflect on what you hope to grow—both in your soil and in yourself.
Embody the pause: Take a slow winter walk and notice what remains still and what is shifting. Listen for birdsong, feel the crisp air, and let yourself settle into the moment.
Nourish the in-between: Cook something warming and grounding—a slow-simmered broth, a cup of herbal tea, or a simple winter soup. (P.S.—there’s a delicious one featured in this month’s cookbook club!) Let the act of cooking be a meditation calling you back to yourself.
Tend to your inner garden: Just as seeds rest beneath the earth, consider: What intentions are you holding beneath the surface? Journal, reflect, or simply sit with this question.

In Closing

Let’s honor February as a season of soft preparation, embodied alignment, and quiet trust.

What spaces—physical, mental, or emotional—are asking to be cleared?
How can you embrace this season of in-between rather than rushing through it?
What quiet shifts are stirring beneath the surface in your life?

May this be a month of trusting the slow unfolding.

With love and care,
Dr. Michelle
Physician, Gardener, Home Cook, and Forever Curious

P.S. If this essay resonated with you, consider liking it and sharing it with a friend who would enjoy embracing the rhythms of the seasons. Our growing community is a space for slow living, nourishing meals, and deep connection—including our Savor the Seasons Cookbook Club, where we cook and learn together through the lens of seasonal eating. The more, the merrier! Thank you for being here—your presence means so much to me.

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