January Nature Journalling: Finding Magic in the Bones of Winter
The Calendar Year may get paid commission for purchases made after clicking a link on this page. This website is for inspiration purposes only. The content provided is meant to spark creativity and ideas, not to serve as professional advice or as endorsement.
I’ll be honest with you. January is not the month I’d naturally choose to go outside and sit with a notebook. It’s cold, it’s grey, and the garden looks pretty sorry for itself. But that’s exactly why I started doing it. I was tired of rushing through winter. Tired of barely noticing the months going by while I waited for spring.
So I started a nature journal. And it genuinely changed how I experience the whole year.
This is the first post in a series I’m putting together as I research and explore nature journaling across the seasons. I’m not an expert. I’m someone curious about slowing down, paying attention, and seeing what I’ve been missing. Come along with me.
What Even Is a Nature Journal?
A nature journal is basically just a record of what you notice in the natural world. That’s it. It can be sketches, words, pressed leaves, lists of birds, or questions you don’t know the answer to. There’s no right way to do it.
Some people keep incredibly detailed scientific records. Others write poetry and stick feathers. Most of us land somewhere in between. The point isn’t the product. The point is the practice of noticing.
If you want some inspiration for what they can look like, John Muir Laws has a brilliant website full of tutorials and examples. He’s based in the US, but his approach works anywhere in the world.
The Field Studies Council in the UK also has great resources for beginners. And the Woodland Trust has a gentle introduction if you want to start small.
Why January? Why Not Wait for Spring?
Because winter is actually fascinating once you start looking. I know that sounds like something someone annoying would say. But hear me out.
In January, the trees are bare. So you can finally see their architecture properly. You can spot nests that were hidden all summer. You can see the shape of hedgerows and the lines of the land that leaves disguise for months.
There’s also a real stillness to January that’s hard to find at other times of year. Fewer people outside. Less noise. More space to actually think.
Research backs this up, too. Studies have shown that spending time in nature, even in short doses, reduces cortisol levels and improves mood. A 2019 study published in Frontiers in Psychology found that just 20 minutes in nature significantly lowers stress hormone levels. January is actually a really good time to lean into this.
The practice of journaling itself adds another layer. Writing things down makes you look more carefully. You notice details you’d walk past otherwise.
What to Look For in January
This is where I started doing some research, because honestly, I didn’t know where to begin. Here’s what I’ve been learning about.
Bark and branches. Without leaves, tree identification becomes a whole new skill. Look at bark texture, bud shape, and branching patterns. The Woodland Trust tree ID guide is really useful for UK readers. For US readers, the Arbor Day Foundation has a great tree identification tool.
Winter birds. January is an excellent month for birdwatching. In the UK, you might spot fieldfares, redwings, and goldcrests. In North America, this is a great time for chickadees, juncos, and overwintering sparrows. The RSPB Big Garden Birdwatch happens every January, which is a lovely way to start paying attention. In the US, the Audubon Society’s Christmas Bird Count runs into early January.
Frost and ice patterns. Frost on leaves, windows, and puddles creates extraordinary patterns. Record them before they melt. They won’t be there for long.
Fungi. Some species actually fruit in winter. Velvet shank mushrooms, for example, can fruit even in freezing temperatures. Keep an eye on fallen logs and stumps.
Getting Started: What You Actually Need
Very little. Genuinely. You don’t need a fancy sketchbook or expensive art supplies. Here’s what I’d suggest starting with.
A notebook you don’t mind getting a bit damp. Waterproof covers are handy but not essential. A few pencils (they work better than pens in cold weather, since ink can get sluggish). A hand lens or magnifying glass, if you want to get into detail. And warm enough layers that you can actually stay still for ten minutes.
That’s it. Seriously.
If you want to go further, Leuchtturm1917 makes popular notebooks, and Stillman & Birn are well regarded for nature journaling. But a cheap spiral-bound notebook works just as well when you’re starting out.
The iNaturalist app is also worth mentioning. It uses AI to help identify species from photos, and it connects you to a global community of nature observers. It’s free and available worldwide.
Some January Journalling Prompts to Get You Going
Not sure what to write? Try some of these. Pick just one and sit with it for a while.
- Describe the sky right now in as much detail as you can. Colour, texture, light quality.
- Find a bare tree and spend five minutes just looking at it. Sketch the outline. What does the branching pattern remind you of?
- What’s the coldest thing you can touch outside today? Describe the sensation.
- List every sound you can hear. Then wait another two minutes and list again.
- Find something dead or decaying. A leaf, a seed head, a fallen branch. Look at it closely. What’s happening to it?
- What evidence of other living things can you find? Tracks, nibbled bark, droppings, and burrows.
There are no wrong answers. The goal is just to slow down and actually look.
The Bigger Picture: Why This Matters
I think a lot of us feel a bit disconnected from the natural world. We move through it, but we don’t really see it. The seasons blur. Years pass. And then one day someone asks when the swallows arrive or what a hawthorn looks like in February, and we realise we don’t know. We’ve been there, but we haven’t been paying attention.
Nature journaling is a practice of reconnection. It’s low-cost, accessible almost anywhere, and you can do it in either 10 minutes or 2 hours. It doesn’t ask much of you. But over a year, it gives back a lot. A sense of rhythm. A sense of place. A record of all the things you would have missed.
So, January. Go outside. Take a notebook. Look at something for longer than feels comfortable. Write down what you see.
I promise it’s worth it.
Next month: February and the first signs of stirring. What to look for as the light returns.
Useful links mentioned in this post:
