Approaching a New Year (and better days?)

I missed my usual posting yesterday. I became entranced watching the continuous, continuing, snow falling most of the day. It became hypnotically mesmerizing and I lost track of time, space and place. So this week's posting is a day late and is being written before I snow blow the mess in the driveway or bake the cranberry-sourdough bread that's been rising overnight.

Christmas cookies: much better than real snowflakes

Photo by J. Harrington

The dogs, especially the 13-inch beagle, were dismayed this morning to discover they'd gone from slipping on an icy driveway yesterday to floundering in multiple inches of snow this morning. I'm sure both Harry the beagle and SiSi the lab will appreciate my snow blowing activities so they don't freeze sensitive parts as they take care of business. This is the second time this season we've had enough snowfall to require blowing. The first was back near the beginning of the month. According to the 2026 Minnesota WeatherGuide Santa left in my stocking. our average daytime high gets above freezing on or about February 26. I may start a countdown if the crazy weather we've had so far continues. It''s hard to slow down and curl up with a good story when snow needs blowing and dogs need walking on slickery surfaces.

Many decades ago I made a New Year's resolution to give up making such resolutions. It's one of the few I've kept. In an effort to go from disgruntled to gruntled (yes, that's a word) I'm considering adopting new guidelines for next year because there's constantly something or other stupid or evil, or both, in the news. Not reading the news seems like irresponsible escapism. I'm open to suggestions on other approaches. Any thoughts about living in and enjoying "the moment" when that moment is anything but pleasant would be particularly helpful. Here's one approach:

For Calling the Spirit Back from Wandering the Earth in Its Human Feet 

Joy Harjo     1951 –

Put down that bag of potato chips, that white bread, that bottle of pop.

Turn off that cellphone, computer, and remote control.

Open the door, then close it behind you.

Take a breath offered by friendly winds. They travel the earth gathering essences of plants to clean.

Give it back with gratitude.

If you sing it will give your spirit lift to fly to the stars’ ears and back.

Acknowledge this earth who has cared for you since you were a dream planting itself precisely within your parents’ desire.

Let your moccasin feet take you to the encampment of the guardians who have known you before time, who will be there after time. They sit before the fire that has been there without time.

Let the earth stabilize your postcolonial insecure jitters.

Be respectful of the small insects, birds and animal people who accompany you.

Ask their forgiveness for the harm we humans have brought down upon them.

Don’t worry.

The heart knows the way though there may be high-rises, interstates, checkpoints, armed soldiers, massacres, wars, and those who will despise you because they despise themselves.

The journey might take you a few hours, a day, a year, a few years, a hundred, a thousand or even more.

Watch your mind. Without training it might run away and leave your heart for the immense human feast set by the thieves of time.

Do not hold regrets.

When you find your way to the circle, to the fire kept burning by the keepers of your soul, you will be welcomed.

You must clean yourself with cedar, sage, or other healing plant.

Cut the ties you have to failure and shame.

Let go the pain you are holding in your mind, your shoulders, your heart, all the way to your feet. Let go the pain of your ancestors to make way for those who are heading in our direction.

Ask for forgiveness.

Call upon the help of those who love you. These helpers take many forms: animal, element, bird, angel, saint, stone, or ancestor.

Call your spirit back. It may be caught in corners and creases of shame, judgment, and human abuse.

You must call in a way that your spirit will want to return.

Speak to it as you would to a beloved child.

Welcome your spirit back from its wandering. It may return in pieces, in tatters. Gather them together. They will be happy to be found after being lost for so long.

Your spirit will need to sleep awhile after it is bathed and given clean clothes.

Now you can have a party. Invite everyone you know who loves and supports you. Keep room for those who have no place else to go.

Make a giveaway, and remember, keep the speeches short.

Then, you must do this: help the next person find their way through the dark. 

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Thanks for visiting. Come again when you can.
Please be kind to each other while you can.

Winter Solstice – Alban Arthan

Tonight is the longest night of the year. Soon the days will begin to lengthen as the sun returns to our northern skies, followed, many weeks later, by the return of warmth. But first comes Christmas and the New Year. And we have an extra celebration on Christmas because it is also the birthday of our very own son. Our Christmas ends at noon after which the festivities become our son's birthday celebration.

as the sun turns northward

Photo by J. Harrington

For too much of the world, including US, the past year has been too dark. Although resisters and rebels have had their moments, the Dark Side of The Force has prevailed too often. After Santa's visit, may the New Year bring a return of Yoda, Han Solo, and Luke Skywalker, and may the Democrats find Jedi Knights to lead their rebel alliance to brighter days. What more could we ask for this holiday season?

This week I am expecting early presents from Mother Nature, temperatures above freezing scattered over several days between Solstice and New Year. There's even the threat of sunshine in the forecast. May the forecast portend better days  ahead.

This will be our last posting before Christmas. We hope each of you has a happy, healthy, holiday, full of hope, warmth and love that continues through 2026.

The Shortest Day by Susan Cooper 

 

So the shortest day came, and the year died,

And everywhere down the centuries of the snow-white world

Came people singing, dancing,

To drive the dark away.

They lighted candles in the winter trees;

They hung their homes with evergreen;

They burned beseeching fires all night long

To keep the year alive,

And when the new year’s sunshine blazed awake

They shouted, reveling.

Through all the frosty ages you can hear them

Echoing behind us—Listen!!

All the long echoes sing the same delight,

This shortest day,

As promise wakens in the sleeping land:

They carol, feast, give thanks,

And dearly love their friends,

And hope for peace.

And so do we, here, now,

This year and every year.

Welcome Yule!

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Thanks for visiting. Come again when you can.
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Christmas horsing around!

As the Better Half and I approached the tack barn this morning at dawn, the temperature (not the windchill) varied from -21℉ to -23 ℉. It was cold! The Daughter Person's horse needed feeding and the horse's owner was otherwise occupied tending to her daughter, our granddaughter, ill with a cold. A similar routine had occurred twice Saturday, driving to the barn in my Jeep to feed the horse, but the cold hadn't been quite as ferocious. Of possible interest: the horse's name is Quinn and, triggered by the temperatures, I was starting to remember some of the lyrics to Dylan's Quinn the Eskimo. (I wonder if we could get Dylan's "Mighty Quinn" to visit the White House and Congress. Click link, see first verse.)

our Quinn: the horse, not an Eskimo

Photo by J. Harrington

Anyhow, the forecast is that Tuesday's temperature should reach 43℉, a more than 60℉ shift in about half a week. That's insane, but I'm looking forward to an early January thaw after which temperatures for the rest of the month may mostly be more reasonable and seasonable, in the 20's above zero range. Don't forget to celebrate Winter Solstice a week from today!

Much to the joy of my taste buds, and the dismay of my blood sugar, we have entered Christmas cookie season. Daughter person will be dropping off some frosted cookies later today and the Better Half has promised to bake some raspberry jam thumbprint cookies soon. I will do my best to pace myself rather than pig out. I don't want Santa to put me on the naughty list and deliver coal in my stocking, increasing my carbon footprint. I wonder if the IPCC, or anyone, has talked to the jolly old elf about a fossil fuel phaseout? Maybe instead of coal, he could leave naughty kids sand to pound?

This year's Christmas tree has remained upright for the past week, for which we are grateful. It's now decorated but I've not had an opportune time to take pictures.. Maybe this coming week. The outside lighting is delightful and cheery. I've already received an early present, an indoor lavender plant that is now living in a South-facing window well. It gives me something to enjoy from now until Spring green-up. Being "of Irish descent," I do prefer green to white and the color lavender, I think, looks better against a green instead of a white background.

Now, in alignment with today's posting and the season, please enjoy this poem:

Let’s just put it this way: They didn’t start calling him “Jolly” Old St. Nicholas until after he got the reindeer.

Poem by Lorraine Jackson

cc/wickimedia commons

 

‘Twas the night before Christmas,

And all through the stable,

Poor Santa was fretting if his horses were able.

The toys were all ready

But the horses were not.

With his sleigh pullers ailing,

Santa was quite distraught.

All the IVs were hung

on the stall fronts with care,

some legs had been cold-hosed

‘til the vet could get there.

Poor Bella had rainrot

And Gordo had thrush

Jellybean pulled a muscle

When he spooked at a brush

Though sometimes dear Rhoda

Could be very sweet,

Christmas Eve she decided to go into heat.

Old Roger was moonblind,

And Jake was too green

Pete had colic or gas–

It remained to be seen.

Trouble was best,

But he has the Cushings.

If he they took him unclipped,

He’d look like a Wookie.

Santa sat on a bucket,

And looked down the barn row

Wondering how he would get to and fro.

The vet bills were growing

They’d make Mark Cuban balk.

Half his elves don’t make toys now,

Instead they hand walk.

As Santa sat moaning

He looked out on the snow.

And saw eight wild reindeer,

With nowhere to go.

“It just might be crazy,”

Said St. Nick full of bliss

“But eight crazy reindeer

Would be better than THIS!”

So that’s how the reindeer

Came to be Santa’s hitch,

And there’s never a colic

Nor a last minute glitch.

The horses retired

But they still hear the bells,

And each Christmas Eve

all their knees start to swell.

Merry Christmas!

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Please be kind to each other while you can.

Tis the season for ....

Yesterday the Better Half [BH] and I selected and cut down a youngish pine along the driveway for this year's home-grown Christmas tree. Getting it to balance in the tree stand was tricky because we hadn't noticed a crook in the trunk about half way up. The top half of the tree is slightly off center. We managed to fiddle with the tree stand a little and the tree stood tall all night. Today the lights went on. Other decorations are coming out and getting hung. Now I just need my mood to include more Christmassy spirits. Maybe if I keep away from the news until after the start of the New Year? Anyhow here's a picture of last year's home grown tree.

Home grown pine Christmas tree 2024

Photo by J. Harrington

Friday we helped the Daughter Person celebrate her birthday with lunch at a place in Stillwater called Brick and Bourbon. My cheeseburger was good and the BH raved about the meat loaf she ordered. Son-In-Law, Granddaughter and Granddaughter's "nanny" all had a good time and the place was festively decorated for the season. Snow showers during the day made the roads messy but driveable.

As this is being written, the temperature is in the single digits with a slight wind chill. That helps explain the diminished joy I'm feeling. Too damn cold. If you don't believe me, ask the dogs. They are not happy about their "walks."

Most of the Christmas shopping is done. There's still wrapping to be tended to and stockings on Christmas eve. Winter solstice happens in two weeks at 9:03 am. Days will start getting longer a week or ten days later. Then there's the two month lag before temperatures approach daytime averages above freezing. I suppose it would be curmudgeonly to ask for an early spring as a Christmas present.

More snow is in the forecast for the coming week. That makes Robert Frost's poem seem quite timely for this native New Englander transplanted to Minnesota decades ago.

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

Robert Frost  1874 – 1963

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

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Thanks for visiting. Come again when you can.
Please be kind to each other while you can.