Telling stories in visuals.
Always a Little Red hat.
January 27, 2026
New England, In the
Quiet of the Holidays
Holiday 2025 was not about the rush or the spectacle.
The season revealed itself through decorations and color. Reds and greens softened by winter light, touches of gold catching quietly rather than shining for attention. There was a sense of pause everywhere. Quietness. Stillness. Even in winter events like Boston Snowport or a small slice of Europe recreated close to home, what stayed with me were not the crowds, but the personal touches. Winter wishes written on a wall by patrons. Fleeting thoughts left behind like footprints in snow.
It lived in the details. In the stillness. In the moments between.
I noticed texture more than anything. Knitting. Snow. Ice. Gloves, scarves, hats pulled tighter as the temperature dropped. An empty martini glass sat over crushed ice, lit by Christmas colors, proof of a moment already passed. Board games came out of storage, bringing nostalgia with them. Operation wasn’t as scary as I remembered. Sorry hadn’t changed at all.
Family traditions resurfaced alongside new ones being created, layered together rather than replaced. There was baking, cooking, and gathering, friends and family alike. Doors stayed open so no one would be alone during the holidays. Food became warmth, memory, and invitation all at once.
Clear skies stretched over winter nights by the ocean in Manchester-by-the-Sea. I found myself capturing twinkling lights against the dark, small points of brightness held up by the quiet. Wrapping paper piled up in patterns and colors of every style, crumpled and torn. Paper everywhere. Thick paper. Thin paper. Tissue paper catching the light before it was discarded.
Christmas stores felt familiar in an unexpected way, echoing my childhood living room. The green carpet. The glass tables. The feeling of being gathered together. We watched and believed. We thought we liked the misfit toys, not realizing how much we would one day understand them.
Threaded through it all was generosity. Giving. Donations. Small, steady acts of care. Hot coffee topped with marshmallow whipped cream and caramel sauce, finished with a small shot to speed up the warmth. Comfort layered on comfort.
This season reminded me that the holidays are not loud. They are built quietly, moment by moment, in the details we choose to notice and hold.
