Nostalgia

Day 65: Most of us experience some degree of nostalgia at this time of year, and while a part of that may direct our thoughts back to childhood holidays, another invites us to step into a time machine to travel to another era. Where does your TARDIS take you? Mine carries me into Dickens' time and is peopled with carollers clad in bustles and tophats, bundled against the cold in the thick woolens of the day, strolling along the gas-lit streets of old London. The Grinch, the Elf on a Shelf, the Peanuts gang can't be found in my nostalgic vision of Christmas, and Santa has an entirely different character than his modern counterpart who lavishes gifts on children both naughty and nice, never leaving lumps of coal or bundles of sticks in the stockings of those who didn't mind their parents. The charity of the time was personal: helping a disadvantaged neighbour, giving food and clothing to those you knew were in need, not leaving them to fight through the bureaucracy of agencies and entitlement programs. Peoples' lives were not as long then, no, but they were richer in human connection, in core humanity than in our present disconnected society. These are the images I see in my nostalgia, admittedly a romanticized version of the time, but not of the message which permeated it: to be kind and respectful to one another throughout the year.

Bird Wreath

Day 56: It's official! The season has begun at the Crow's Nest. I made spritz on St. Nicholas Day, and yesterday I put up the Bird Wreath and the other assorted house decorations. The tree will go up this weekend if I can figure out where to put it. That said, I observe Christmas as a tradition of a festive nature, not a religious one. There are vestiges of my father's Catholic upbringing in it, e.g., the observance of St. Nicholas Day, but mostly it is to me a time to be closer to friends (human and otherwise) and to recognize them with a few special kindnesses above those of the rest of the year. Birds, boughs and lights are the symbols of my Yuletide, a season which begins on December 6 (St. Nicholas Day) and ends on Hogmanay (January 1). The core of the period is shared by the twin stars of Solstice and Christmas, each with its own set of traditions unique to me personally. Perforce, some have had to be revised over the years, so if anyone knows where I can get some real mistletoe to go with the Solstice holly, please let me know!

First Day Of Skunk Cabbage

Day 156: Besides being St. Patrick's Day and in my book more importantly, yesterday proved to be the First Day of Skunk Cabbage. As many of you know, this is one of my annual celebrations. This Arum was my mother's favourite flower, and when it came into bloom each spring, she would pick a single blossom and put it in a vase in the center of the dining room table. Its odor is reminiscent of the animal which gives it its common name, but that was no deterrent. In fact, once you have become accustomed to it, it speaks of clean air. Putting aside my mother's custom of plucking the flower, I begin watching the bogs in late February despite not expecting to see yellow until mid-March, but when the first blooms appear, I go hunting with my camera. Yesterday's local specimens were still quite small, so another foray will be in order to a favourite spot by Swofford Pond, this time with rubber boots instead of trainers. Ah, but the sacrifice was worth it to celebrate the First Day of Skunk Cabbage! Happy Spring!

Lighting The Solstice Shrub

Day 58: When you live alone, it's tempting to dispense with decorating for the holidays. It's a lot of work, especially when you don't expect to have more than two or three drop-in guests (if that!). But traditions are an important part of the human psyche, and even though I don't celebrate "Christmas" in its religious sense, I do mark the Solstice and rejoice in the slow lengthening of daylight hours. For me, the holiday is one of Light, harking back to the first word my infant tongue pronounced: not "mama," not "dada," but "light," clearly and succinctly, and in reference to the full moon.

That said, I can no longer go at decorating full-tilt; I have to take it in stages. Today, I put up the Solstice Shrub (artificial...I refuse to support the killing of trees whether they have been raised for slaughter or not), and strung the lights. I may get a few ornaments on it before bedtime, but the bulk of them will be installed tomorrow.

The Spirit Of The Season

Day 56: The tree is up and decorated, the house smells of freshly baked cookies, the wreath is over the mantel and the jingle bells are on the door; I'm over halfway done with a second shawl (a gift), plus I made this lovely card for you, my friends and followers, to wish you all the best for the holiday season, however you elect to observe it. Don't forget our little feathered neighbors while you're thinking about goodies!

Traditions

Day 55: Okay, call me a sappy sentimentalist if you will, but even though there's no one around to share them with me, there are certain traditions I observe in connection with the holidays. One of them is baking cookies on St. Nicholas Day, and it usually takes form as Spritz, those wonderfully almondy, butter-rich "cookie-press" cookies. I'm always rather heavy-handed with the sugar sparkles...cookies should be festive, don't you agree?...and in the days that follow, I will ration myself to no more than half a dozen each day in the interest of keeping my uniform trousers zippable.

Christmas In November

Day 32: I would boycott the stores where I saw Christmas merchandise on the shelves prior to Hallowe'en, but I'd go naked and starve if I did. Here at home, however, I don't mind Christmas coming in November when my Zygocacti respond to the transition of seasons. After all, they bloom when they're supposed to bloom once they've resumed their natural rhythms after having been forced into a one-time December display. It might be that they're giving us some sage advice: give from the heart when the time is right, not by the calendar (and certainly not because you feel forced).