The story behind the song
The choice in front of us
I think about ageing more than I used to. Not with dread, just with genuine curiosity. What does it look like to age well? What is the difference between the people who become more interesting and warm as the years accumulate, and the ones who become harder, more brittle, more disappointed?
“Wine or vinegar, that’s the choice we make / Stored in darkness, patient / Or exposed and left to break / Every year adds something / Depth or just decay.”
That is the question. And it is not passive. It is a choice we make, daily, in how we receive the seasons we are given.
Winter blooms
I love the idea of plants that only bloom in winter. Not despite the cold, but because of it. Some flowers need a certain chill before they will open at all. The frost does not kill them. It is the trigger.
“The finest blooms need winter / The deepest roots need time / Not every ending’s bitter / Some things ripen on the vine.”
That image does the work of the whole song. The beautiful things do not always arrive in spring. Sometimes the most extraordinary blooming happens in the season you least expected.
What I learned from gardens
There is a line I love: “The garden doesn’t owe us spring / To trust what dormancy reveals.” We have become so afraid of the slow seasons, of stillness, of not-yet-ness. But dormancy is not death. It is preparation. The roots go deeper in the cold.
The relationship at the centre of this song is between two people who have figured this out together. Not without loss or difficulty, but with grace. They have learned to count what remains rather than what has fallen.
The sound
Harmonica-led, fingerpicked acoustic. The Civil Wars meets Iron and Wine. Intimate, warm, close-mic’d vocals with natural room sound. The song builds gently and never dramatically. It knows exactly how much it needs to say.
Listen to “Winter bloom” from the album In the fog.
