There’s something deeply ancient and sacred about winter, and no one captures that essence quite like Emaline Delapaix in her new single “When The Light Falls (And The Bear Sleeps).” Written during a bitterly cold, snow-cloaked week in her tiny Berlin apartment, the song is more than a winter lament—it’s a quiet anthem of surrender, ritual, and renewal. Listening to it feels like stepping into a snow-covered forest where the silence carries meaning, and time softens its grip.

I was immediately struck by Emaline’s voice—pure, haunting, and impossibly clear. It reminded me of Agnetha from ABBA: crystalline in tone, yet carrying an emotional weight that lingers. You can also hear traces of Kate Bush. There’s a steadiness in her delivery, like she’s channeling something older and wiser than herself. It’s the kind of voice that doesn’t just sing to you—it invites you to listen with your whole body.

This song has been a long time in the making. Emaline wrote it years ago while grappling with her  health, yearning for simpler winters spent in rural Mecklenburg-Vorpommern, Germany, or in a tiny wooden cabin on an island in Western Canada. That nostalgia pulses through the lyrics and melody, but it’s not just longing for the past—it’s a yearning to make peace with winter itself. She sings:

“The cool it swallows up the earth,
and lazy grey skies like blankets.
Wrap us up,
and give us time to reflect.
So we can rest our bones
and reset.”

This refrain feels like a whispered prayer, a gentle reminder that winter is not something to dread but to embrace. It’s a season of pause, of reflection. In a world obsessed with constant motion, this song dares to slow down and listen. And in doing so, it offers us all a rare kind of healing.

Emaline carried this song with her like a mantra for years, performing it live to find solace for herself and for others. But then life, in its unpredictable way, intervened. She was diagnosed with several autoimmune conditions, and music had to be set aside as she focused on treatment and recovery. For a time, her voice was silent. But winter teaches us patience, and like the earth waking in spring, Emaline eventually returned.

In late 2024, she found her perfect collaborator: Fieke Van Den Hurk, a gifted engineer and producer known for working with Scandinavian artists like Eivør, Myrkur, Heilung, and Nanna Barslev. At Dear World Studio in the Dutch countryside, the two women began shaping the sonic world of “When The Light Falls.” What emerged is a soundscape as textured and earthy as the song’s story.

Fieke’s moody accordion drifts like wind through trees. Shamanic drums and even the soft sweep of a tiny broom add layers of ritual and mysticism. And then there’s the haunting addition of Swedish nyckelharpa, played by Sophie Zaaijer, which roots the song in a medieval, almost otherworldly space. These elements don’t just decorate the song—they carry it, like ancestral spirits guiding us through the dark.

One of the most moving aspects of this track is its feminine power. Aside from a subtle mandolin contribution from Emaline’s partner Lukas, every note and nuance was shaped by women. And you can feel that energy: maternal, protective, fierce in its stillness. The song doesn’t just reflect winter—it becomes Mother Nature herself, asking us to listen, to slow down, to shed what no longer serves.

I was especially touched by the lyric:

> “Geese meditate in their airstream, moving south.
Hundreds of miles away.
While I’m mourning the heavy weight of life.
When it’s time to let go.
Piece by piece, let it go.”

That line hit me like a sigh I didn’t know I needed. In the flurry of daily life, it’s easy to forget the quiet rituals of letting go. Emaline reminds us that mourning and meditation can exist side by side, that even our sadness can find rhythm with the seasons.

As I listened, I found myself transported—to snow-covered landscapes, to candle-lit cabins, to places where time stretches and softens. But more than that, I was moved inward, into a deeper sense of stillness and gratitude for the slow cycles of life.

“When The Light Falls (And The Bear Sleeps)” isn’t just a song—it’s a seasonal rite, a sonic offering for anyone who’s ever felt overwhelmed by the dark and needed a reminder that rest, too, is holy. Emaline Delapaix has given us a winter hymn for the soul, steeped in tradition, born from struggle, and delivered with the kind of clarity that only comes from deep listening.

Do yourself a favor—wrap yourself in a blanket, light a candle, and press play. Let the bear sleep. Let the light fall. And give yourself permission to rest your bones.

When The Light Falls And The Bear Sleeps’

Emaline Delapaix: songwriting, vocals, acoustic guitar, arrangements
Fieke Van Den Hurk: recording, mixing, production, accordion, percussion
​Sophie Zaaijer: violin, viola, cello, swedish nyckelharpa
Lukas Creswell-Rost: mandolin
Maria Triana: mastering
Rebecca Perdue: album illustration
C. Moss Collective: lyric video