February 8, 2026
Winter Moon Milk
Winter always slows me down, whether I want it to or not.
Even when my mind is busy — planning, worrying, reaching ahead — my body asks for something else entirely. More warmth. Earlier nights. Fewer inputs. There’s a contraction that happens this time of year, and over time I’ve learned that resisting it only creates more exhaustion.
Winter isn’t a season I move through quickly anymore. It’s one I try to stay with.
One of the ways I do that is through small nighttime rituals — things that help mark the end of the day and signal to my nervous system that it’s safe to let go. Winter moon milk is one of those rituals.
A drink for evening, not productivity
I don’t make moon milk as a wellness habit or a sleep solution. I make it when the house is quiet and the day has finally loosened its grip. Sometimes I drink it while reading, sometimes in silence, sometimes while staring out the window and letting my thoughts wander.
It’s not really about the drink.
It’s about what the act of making it says to the body:
You don’t have to carry everything into the night.
Winter evenings feel different. The dark comes earlier. The body asks for reassurance. Warmth isn’t just comforting — it’s regulating. And regulation, I’ve learned, sits at the center of everything.
Ashwagandha and staying steady
At the heart of this drink is ashwagandha, a warming root traditionally used to support the body during periods of stress and depletion. What draws me to it, especially in winter, is how quietly it works.
Ashwagandha doesn’t push the system forward. It supports steadiness. It helps the nervous system settle without shutting anything down. In a season when energy naturally turns inward, that kind of support feels appropriate.
Winter isn’t a time for forcing momentum. It’s a time for rebuilding reserves — even when that work is invisible and unglamorous.
Warming spices for cold months
The spices in winter moon milk do more than add flavor — they help the body receive the drink.
Cinnamon brings circulation and gentle internal warmth.
Cardamom lightens and opens, especially when digestion feels slow or heavy.
Nutmeg is grounding and traditionally associated with evening use.
Together, they counter the cold and damp quality of winter without overstimulation. They remind the body how to generate warmth from the inside, which feels especially important when the world outside is bare and quiet.
Late winter and the urge to rush ahead
Late winter often carries a subtle restlessness. A sense that we should be preparing, clearing, getting ready for what’s next. I feel that pull every year.
But I’ve learned that when I rush this transition, something gets skipped.
Winter has its own work.
Completion is part of that work.
Rituals like this help me stay present long enough to actually finish the season — to digest what’s been happening internally before reaching for spring. When winter is honored, what comes next feels less frantic and more grounded.
The Recipe
(shared with love, and carried forward)
This winter moon milk recipe originally came from Jan Wolfe, former owner of The Elderberry in Charlottesville, who shared it with me years ago as part of her own recipe repository. Over time, I’ve adapted it only slightly to suit my body and the season, but I still think of it as her offering — a reminder that nourishment is often something we receive before we make it our own.
Winter Moon Milk
Ingredients
- 4 cups milk of choice (dairy or plant-based)
- 1 tablespoon ashwagandha root
- 2 cardamom pods
- ½ teaspoon ground cinnamon OR 1 short stick of cinnamon
- ¼ tsp teaspoon nutmeg
- 1 tablespoon maple syrup (or honey)
- pinch of salt
Method
Warm the milk gently over medium-low heat. Stir in the ashwagandha and the whole spices, and continue stirring occasionally as it comes to a low boil for 12-14 minutes. Strain, pushing on the plant material to release the milk. Sweeten lightly with the vanilla and maple syrup, and add the powdered spices. Pour into a mug you like and drink it warm.
Serving size: 1 cup. Cover reserves and drink over the next several days. You may reheat it gently, but boiling it will lessen the quality of the medicine.
Winter doesn’t ask us to be ready for what’s next.
It asks us to stay, to listen, and to strengthen quietly.
Spring will come on its own time.
There’s nothing to force.
Virginia's Vittles 