Solstice

Tomorrow is the winter Solstice (which this year comes accompanied by a lunar eclipse).  Coming from Irish and Scandinavian stock, I was raised among the Catholic tradition, but the integration of the "old culture" remained an important part of my upbringing - leaving milk out for the pooka when things started to go missing or things kept going wrong, the First Foot and the Risgrynsgrot with a lucky almond on New Years to determine our fates for the year.

The Solstice, while never officially celebrated in my childhood home, has always held a special meaning for me.  The sentiment of turning inward, or to our families and friends, as sources of light in times of darkness is something that deserves a moment or two of acknowledgement, even if it's the simple act of gathering our loved ones around a table and lighting a candle together against the darkness.

Renewal and rebirth.  It happens cyclically in our lives, though we seldom pause to acknowledge of ending of one era and beginning of another.  So often we don't consider the act of letting friendships lie fallow to cultivate new fields, though periods of rest are critical to ensure fertility.

In 2002, I had the privilege of visiting Newgrange, a Celtic burial ground dating to approximate 5,000 BCE, which is oriented to allow the light of the setting sun illuminate its innermost chambers, which are filled with the bones and images of my ancestors.  A high priest would enter the chamber and into the darkness of the tomb, waiting for the last gasp of the sun's light to cast a momentary glow on the bones of the long dead before plunging the space into darkness and damp silence.  There they would meditate on the coming year, and pray for the return of strength to the waning sun.

Tonight, on the darkest night of the year, our internationally recognized cycle, our primary illumination in darkness will be blotted out by the shadow of our earth, making tonight the darkest night in hundreds of years.

Have you decided who you want with you to light your way?

Falling for Fall

It's December and it's 74 degrees right now.  Convincing my kids that it's Christmas, despite the pervasive "jazzed up" Christmas Carols absolutely everywhere right now, has been fruitless.  Monster's school had a visit from Santa this morning, and he didn't want to go, claiming that it "wasn't time yet" and he'd rather "go play on the playground."  Winter, indeed.

So in some attempt to create some semblance of holiday cheer, we've engaged in a handful of little craft projects in an attempt to recreate a more traditional holiday season.  Last night we dyed a bunch of coffee filters in some water color paint (the tube kind, diluted in water), and Monster felt compelled to color on them after they dried with a blue highlighter.  Since then, we've folded them up and cut them into little snowflakes, some cut more successfully than others, strung them on some yarn and festooned the dining room.

According to Monster, this is damned exciting.

Meanwhile, I'm up to my ears in studying for finals.  One of my instructors is a graduate student, and despite the provision of study guides, trying to follow the logic of her selection of Critical Pieces of Art since 1850 has been one disappointment after another.  Yes, art is subjective, but if the idea is to create a foundation for basic artistic appreciation, starting with the generally considered "masterpieces" of each sub-genre is probably a good idea.  I digress.

With school in its full swing, I've been cooking a lot less.  Having a bit of time yesterday, I got a wild hair to make homemade eggnog, just to remember that we no longer have tasty fresh eggs anymore since Delilah was snatched in the night.  We've decided to hold off getting more chickens until it warms up a bit (chickens typically produce fewer eggs in the winter), but in the meantime, every time I purchase a carton of eggs I picture the inside of those commercial "free range, vegetarian fed" warehouses and nearly barf.  As a result, we're going through them significantly more slowly.