turning aside

 The snow started around or right after seven thirty; it isn't a blizzard yet, but they're saying it's going to be. Right now it's just falling steadily but gently. We threw out some carrots, in case the rabbits came around before the snow, but they didn't.

However, I later realized the storm door was unlocked, and when I locked it, there was one at the head of the driveway, looking for sunflower seeds beneath the snow. There are plenty there. I watched him several minutes, when he suddenly zigzagged into the neighbor's yard, and there he sat, near a pile of brush near the shed. Meanwhile another appeared on the side of the forsythia and just quietly sat for five minutes until he, too, came to look for seed. Then we noticed a third near the feeder where the carrots are, so maybe they will get some after all. Because we will get at least a foot of heavy snow, at times with very low visibility and I have no idea how they manage or what they do in snowstorms.

But there had been a hawk outside a few days ago, so I'm glad to see all three of them, still our little neighbors. But, what do they do? What do squirrels do in blizzards, when the wind gusts to forty five miles per hour? Can they stay in the trees?

Now, they've all converged under the bird feeder, while the snow is only an inch or so deep. Fill up, little friends, because it may be a long while before your next meal!

While I was watching them, I thought of the poem by R.S. Thomas, which was the Lenten meditation for today in Malcolm Guite's The Word in the Wilderness:

"Life is not hurrying on to a receding future,
nor hankering after an imagined past.
It is the turning aside like Moses to the miracle of the lit bush."

Because I was standing there for a while; they weren't moving, so I didn't move, because I wanted to understand how they live.

But anyway, about the storm - we have plenty to eat, things to do and books to read. The town offices are already closed for tomorrow - my coworkers will have a day off.

I hope it won't be too bad.

The Bright Field

I have seen the sun break through
to illuminate a small field
for a while, and gone my way
and forgotten it. But that was the
pearl of great price, the one field that had
treasure in it. I realise* now
that I must give all that I have
to possess it. Life is not hurrying

on to a receding future, nor hankering after
an imagined past. It is the turning
aside like Moses to the miracle
of the lit bush, to a brightness
that seemed as transitory as your youth
once, but is the eternity that awaits you.

-  R.S. Thomas

*realize the way the English spell it, with an "s"

where we're meant to be

 "Life means the fullest possible give and take between the living creature and its environment: breathing, feeding, growing, changing. And spiritual life, which is profoundly organic, means the give and take, the willed correspondence of the little human spirit with the Infinite Spirit, here where it is; its feeding upon Him, its growth towards perfect union with Him, its response to His attraction and subtle pressure. That growth and that response may seem to us like a movement, a journey, in which by various unexpected and often unattractive paths, we are drawn almost in spite of ourselves - not as a result of our own over-anxious struggles - to the real end of our being, the place where we are ordained to be..."

                                                             -  Evelyn Underhill

Being, the essence of a spiritual life

 "When we life our eyes from the crowded by-pass to the eternal hills; then, how much the personal and practical things we have to deal with are enriched. What meaning and coherence come into our scattered lives. We mostly spend those lives conjugating three verbs: to Want, to Have, and to Do. Craving, clutching, and fussing, on the material, political, social, emotional, intellectual - even on the religious - plane, we are kept in perpetual unrest; forgetting that none of these verbs have any ultimate significance, except so far as they are transcended by and included in, the fundamental verb, to Be: and that Being, not wanting, having, and doing, is the essence of a spiritual life."

                                                 -  Evelyn Underhill,  Essential Writings

at home, yet a stranger

 I just finished In This House of Brede with an online group - an excellent story! So many characters, so many personalities and lots going on. I remember Diana Rigg being in the film version but don't think I've watched it, so that's what I'm going to do. I'll keep my expectations low, since I can't imagine the whole story fitting into a two-hour or less movie.

I discovered a mostly-done skirt in my fabric stash - it's an olive cotton knit, made up just like my gray knit skirt, and only needed an elastic for the waist. I finished it off, and it's waiting to be ironed. I tried taking a photo, but the right color is so hard to get! 

I've started looking at my gardening books, even though the snow on the ground is still a few inches deep. There was some rain today, which will melt things a little faster. I'm also looking at all the books I own with a critical eye - do I really need you? I have a cookbook with recipes for many pantry type foods, and I noticed a recipe for chocolate yogurt. I bought a gallon of the only pasteurized milk at the store (as opposed to ultra-pasteurized) and made some. It calls for very little sugar, but I have it with a bit of honey. As I was ladling it into the jars, I noticed it looked more chocolate-y at the end than the top. I was stirring it well the whole time, but milky things often stick to the bottom of the pot, and when they do, you don't want to scrape it when you stir in case it may turn up solids which aren't going to dissolve. So I stirred frequently but carefully,and more of the chocolate stayed near the bottom. 

It's Lent.

"To take the ashes is to confess kinship with this world of dust, to declare our readiness to abdicate pretensions to omnipotence. Standing before God in this way, I profess that I am not God. I admit the chasm that separates me from him. I accept the uncomfortable otherness of God. He is what I am not, yet my being bears his mark. I crave a completion no created thing can give. I walk this earth as yearning incarnate. I am at home, yet a stranger, homesick for a homeland I recall but have not seen."

-  Bishop Erik Varden, from Magnificat, February 2026

resisting the machine

Spring is definitely in the air! It's warmer, but not terribly; but the birds are singing, the daylight lasts longer, the paths my brother plowed for the rabbits are showing grass! Everything feels like it's coming alive. Under the surface, of course, except for the birds - they're the ones who show it.

I am almost finished reading Defending Middle Earth by Patrick Curry. I picked it up when it was dropped off at the library. I do not exaggerate when I say that not a day goes by when someone does not drop off books at their local library - at least, I assume it happens everywhere; it sure does where I work! And of course I have to look through them. 

Anyway, Mr. Curry defends the Lord of the Rings stories, and their focus on the simple enjoyments of home, community and nature. He tries to explain the popularity from different angles. I feel I should read it again, so I put a note in it to that effect. Anyway -

"Why can Tolkien's 'mythology' be described as universal? I have already shown that it embodies an attack on unchecked modernity in all its worst aspects, and presents a world of community, nature and spiritual values that successfully, albeit barely, struggles to survive such destruction. That world seems to be a different one, with strange people and places; yet at the same time, it is also recognizably ours. And because the processes of rampant modernization - economic, political, cultural - are now truly global, the potential appeal and relevance of Tolkien's attack and alternative are also effectively universal. This is a social and historical development; there is nothing necessarily mystical about it. 

But his universality comes about in another way, too. For the very terms of his critique are mythic; after all, that is ultimately the most (and perhaps even only) effective way to counter a worldview which is rigidly rationalistic and scientistic. And there is literally nowhere in the world without some native tradition of a mythical way of relating to the world in which it is alive and saturated with spiritual meaning - enchanted, in a word. Those traditions may be deeply buried, but - like the gods they embody - they can still be revived by recognition."

This book was published in 1997, and even back then he was speaking of "re-enchantment". There's a lot of talk about this: that, in a nutshell, we have lost the ability to take true delight in the world, and we need to re-enchant our way of seeing things, like they did in the Middle Ages. 

There is an article in Plough by Paul Kingsnorth about this very thing, speaking about his new book, Against the Machine: "Its modus operandi is the abolition of all borders, boundaries, categories, essences, and truths: the uprooting of all previous ways of living in the name of pure individualism and perfect subjectivity. Its endgame is the replacement of nature with technology, in order to facilitate total control over a totally human world."

According to Patrick Curry, the popularity of the Tolkien books shows that we really don't want a world like that, whether we realize it in this way or not. 

Brothers and sisters: We speak a wisdom to those who are mature, not a wisdom of this age, nor of the rulers of this age who are passing away. Rather, we speak God's wisdom, mysterious, hidden, which God predetermined before the ages for our glory, and which none of the rulers of this age knew; for, if they had known it, they would not have crucified the Lord of glory,,,, For the Spirit scrutinizes everything, even the depths of God.

 -  1 Corinthians 2:6-10 

crow on the shed

I laughed

 When I want to wash my face, I shut the bathroom door to keep Daisy out; she will come in when the faucet turns on and get in the way. Sometimes, I don't shut it, and then have to put her out of the room. Last night, rather late, I went in and didn't bother. Of course she came in. I didn't put her out, either, thinking what the heck. So I ran the water to let it heat up, and she was all over the sink. I soaped up my face, while she, below my hands, roamed around the edges, peering into the water. And I started laughing. It was entirely ridiculous, me, trying to get at the running water, and Daisy, oblivious to my purposes, trying to study the thing that fascinates her above all else. It was a good laugh.

beyond our limits

 "Faith... is a great cannon which hurls man out beyond the boundaries of the universe into the world of the infinite. It is not to be conceived of as something mild, sweetly enfeebling. Rather it must be thought of in terms of strength, of an explosion which has broken down the walls of the world, of a storming of nature by the hosts of heaven that man might be released from the limitations of his humanity. It grants to man the freedom by which he can surpass not only the limits of the present, of the past, of space, of material things, but even the limits of all nature. By it his mind walks into the limitlessness of God."

                                                                           -  Fr. Walter Farrell, from Magnificat, February 2026

keeping warm

 Snow was predicted last night and all day today, and by morning light, everything looked fresh. Then around eight, visibility dropped and the wind was blowing it all around - I wondered if they'd be wrong again about the amounts, but it must have been a squall; it settled back into a light snow and ended mid-afternoon. But it's cold, and windy.

We throw out timothy hay, cracked corn, carrots, peanuts. The mourning doves seemed to like the corn this afternoon. 

I'd bought two large plastic bins for organizing the Christmas things, and today I can say it's done - everything is sensibly arranged in the bins and a couple of shoe boxes. Much better than it was, and I feel light as a feather! I'm surprised at how relieved I feel to have that done. By using the bins, I got a lot out of the closet, consolidated a few smaller boxes, and things that I like to group together are stored together - like it should have been all along!

Daisy sitting under the corner cabinet to warm up near the heaters

Peter Wohlleben, who wrote The Hidden Life of Trees, also has written The Inner Life of Animals; I just finished it. I liked some parts better than others, but many things were interesting. Here, he explains why moths fly around lights:

"Moths... rely on the moon when they want to fly in a straight line. For example, when the moon is at its height and they want to fly west, all they have to do is keep the moon to their left. But little moths can't tell the difference between the moon and a cozy lamp adding a decorative touch to a garden at night. Now, as the tiny winged wanderer glides past the tulips and the roses, it immediately gets turned around. The brightest light at night must be the moon, mustn't it? And so it tries to keep this new moon to its left, but the lamp is unfortunately not 238,900 miles but only a few yards away. If the moth keeps flying in a straight line, the "moon" appears behind it, and it seems to the moth that it must have flown in a circle. And so the insect pilot corrects its course to the left to, as it thinks, continue flying straight ahead. This makes the "moon" appear on the correct side, but what's really happening is that the moth is flying in circles around the light. The spiraling flight takes the moth ever closer to the light until it finally end up at the center. If the artificial moon is a candle, there's a brief "puff", and the moth's life is snuffed out."

you're okay

 A grandfather brought in his little one to the library today - he was so good with her; he seemed to have a childlike quality of his own that I believe made it easy for him. One of the columns in the children’s department is decorated as a snowman, with hat, "carrot" nose, etc. She would pass by it and say "hi" very earnestly. She noticed the hat, and so he pointed out all the other parts to the snowman. Of course, I've heard many adults doing the same sort of thing with children, but the sense of wonder seemed more genuine in him - I guess that's a judgment on my part. Oh, well, maybe it is. 

And when it was time to go and she was screaming a little, he said, you're okay, you're okay,* and brought her back to the snowman. He distracted her gently by pointing out it's features. Without exasperation. This child is fortunate.

*I say this to Orphan Annie when she seems bothered by something. 

in this world of strife

 Father almighty, you bring peace to those who trust in you.
Make us your ambassadors of peace in this world of strife,
that all peoples may come to know the joy and harmony found in loving you.
Through Christ our Lord, Amen.

- from Magnificat, February 2026

hopefulness

 There are icicles everywhere. Riding along, you see scads of them, hanging on almost every building. I don't know why some buildings don't have them. It's very cold all the time, but when the sun is bright, I guess there is some melting, because these things are lengthening by the day.

I had finished knitting the hand warmers and gave them to my friend, but I'm knitting another pair with the same yarn. She wears them over thin knitted gloves, and the basic bind-off I use doesn't have any give, really - they could be a little less tight at the opening, and since I have more of the yarn, and they're easy to make, I'm knitting another pair with a different bind-off, and it does seem better. I have a book that's just cast-ons and bind-offs, and it's very handy. Sometimes you buy books you think it would be good to have, and they just accumulate and you wonder why you bought them, but I'm happy I bought this one. 

A year ago, I received a book of Coleridge's poems, which I'd asked for, but they haven't really clicked with me. I enjoyed Malcolm Guite's Mariner, so I guess I'm more interested in the man than in his poetry. But I do like this one which I read today:

All Nature seems at work. Slugs leave their lair -
The bees are stirring - birds are on the wing -
And Winter slumbering in the open air,
Wears on his smiling face a dream of Spring!
And I, the while, the sole unbusy thing,
Nor honey make, nor pair, nor build, nor sing.

Yet well I ken the banks where amaranths blow,
Have traced the fount whence streams of nectar flow.
Bloom, o ye amaranths! bloom for whom ye may,
For me ye bloom not! Glide, rich streams, away!
With lips unbrightened, wreathless brow, I stroll:
And would you learn the spells that drowse my soul?
Work without Hope draws nectar in a sieve,
And Hope without an object cannot live.

- Work Without Hope, composed Feb 21st, 1825

And we know from Emily Dickinson, don't we, that hope's the thing with feathers that perches in the soul.

it's just Daisy

 I realized Daisy wasn't in the basement (where she spends so much time, watching at ground level all the activity at the feeder). She wasn't on my bed, or my brother's, or in the living room or with Annie. Maybe she was under some furniture, near a heater. But it came to me to check the closets.

She was in the bathroom/linen closet, curled up in the ironing bin. How long was she there? Maybe an hour. Did she scratch at the door? No. Was she agitated at being closed in? No, she was cozily resting (maybe sleeping) in there.

The way she quietly slips in when we open a door, when she comes out of nowhere and we don't see her - well, it's just Daisy.

Of course I have to wash those red napkins again.

hanging on

 Well, the storm is hanging on; they changed the snow's end time to eleven. So, it's still going. Inside, I am hanging on to my wintry placemats. I was about to put them away, but, in view of the weather....... well, they are nice and cheery,

Meanwhile, there's some talk of another snowfall next weekend, and I even saw the word "blizzard" mentioned.

frost and cold

 

O ye frost and cold, bless the Lord;
praise and exalt him above all forever.

O ye ice and snow, bless the Lord;
praise and exalt him above all forever.

-  Daniel 3:69,70

big snow coming

 The thermometer outside my window says it's ten degrees, and it's going to get colder. It will be very cold for a few days, but that isn't the main event: the very big storm that's crossing the country will bring us a foot of snow, maybe a foot-and-a-half, tomorrow and Monday.

Tuesday evening I started to get that feeling of a cold coming on; it progressed, and I ended up missing a day of work. Today, I got caught up a little with some of the food that's been waiting in the fridge: I cooked a chicken for tomorrow's dinner, a meatloaf for the freezer, a small batch of granola and some energy bites for myself. 

The furnace has been going on all day. A foot of snow is not a huge amount - the hullabaloo is mainly over two things: the size of the storm, which is big enough to cover much of this large nation, and the ice that so many in the south will get. That will cause problems, if it hasn't already. I don't think we're going to get any.

I took so many pretty pictures of the last snowfall; I wonder how long it will take for my enthusiasm to wane, if it ends up a snowy winter?

“In the morning you will see

 

the glory of the Lord.”   -   Exodus 16:7

waiting to get in

 "At present we are on the outside of the world, the wrong side of the door. We discern the freshness and purity of morning, but they do not make us fresh and pure. We cannot mingle with the splendors we see. But all the leaves of the New Testament are rustling with the rumor that it will not always be so. Someday, God willing, we shall get in."

                                                          -  C.S. Lewis, from The Weight of Glory

Found in Plough magazine, Winter 2026

scenes from a snowy morning

 

evolution of a snowy day

 They predicted snow all day today, starting at five o'clock. Then they said it would snow 'til three. There was a forty-four percent chance of a dusting to one inch. A forty-two percent chance of one to three inches. The former, because it was the larger percentage, was highlighted. 

I woke up at seven, and the snow had already covered most of the ground, and was nestling in the bushes.

I was hoping the forty-two percent camp would prevail. 

Around mid-morning I saw a lighter sky, and got nervous; was the sun going to break through already? But it got grayer again.

Did you ever notice that snow gives everything a Currier and Ives sort of look? 

Anyway, like I said, it was supposed to stop by three, but before that it stepped up the pace and the flakes got bigger and started to stick to the trees. More than a dusting, I would say!

It improved the look of my garland on the fence.

It's rather sparse,

We went grocery shopping in the wonderland. 

What is it about winter evenings, before the dark, especially in the snow, with a light in a neighboring window to contrast with all the coolness?

Did I mention it was supposed to turn to rain at the end? It didn't.

birds and branches

 We're going to have snow Saturday. I'm looking forward to it, though it won't be much.

Today there was sun, and I slipped outside an hour before dark, for some change of air. I had seen a gardening youtuber talk about what wild rabbits like to eat in winter. Apple branches, mostly, but also pear and crabapple. So I went around to look at our trees, thinking about prunings I could leave for them now and then, especially when there's snow cover. I cut a couple of crabapple twigs and left them where I think they live. The tree is full of crabapples, and last year Clare mentioned that she had a better crop when she removed them herself, so, I think I'll do that. I can leave them on the ground for the creatures. 

We've had three of these tall arbor vitaes near the garden, and they' were so big; last year my brother said he'd have to take one or two down. Well, nature seems to have done it for him.

We realized a couple of weeks ago that two came down at some point. Roots and all, just up and out. I haven't pushed the upright one to see if it's going to be next. 

Sometimes my co-workers will say they saw a cardinal at their feeder, and they're all excited. We see them every day! Today I saw an unfamiliar bird out my bedroom window; he was with the sparrows and finches, and about the same small size. I got a good look at him via my camera zoom, and then took a little film.

Then I looked him up. He is a downy woodpecker, apparently very common in our state! But I've never seen one.

"In the woodland I manage, we use the birds' passion for collecting to plant young deciduous trees in the monocultures of old spruce plantations. This is how it works. We put seed trays on posts and fill them with acorns and beechnuts. Jays love to come and help themselves, and they distribute their booty in the soil hundreds of yards in every direction. It's a win-win situation. We get precious new stands of deciduous trees in the woodland, and the jays get huge quantities of winter provisions with very little effort."

                                          -  Peter Wohlleben, The Inner Life of Animals

I can picture this entirely! When the blue jays come to our feeder, they throw seed right and left. A jay must be a jay, must be a jay.

finishing up with the holidays

 Our snow has been gone for a while; the temperatures are in the forties - a January thaw, I guess. There may be a snowstorm brewing for Thursday, but it's too soon to know any of the "ifs": if the storm develops, if it comes our way or goes another. 

I sewed up two panels of red plaid fabric, lined, and clipped them up in the bathroom for curtains. 

I like the sort-of rustic air of plaid, and I hung this wooden ornament on the rod, between the panels. 

I heard mention of The 39 Steps, by John Buchan, on a podcast, so I got a copy of it. A short book, written in 1915, it kept me turning the pages. A man-on-the-run story, written in that very matter of fact style that was more common - well, I was going to say "back then", but I was thinking of the style of Raymond Chandler, and he came later. I mean that plain way of just describing everything without all the emotionalism which saturates the stories of our own day. It's rather refreshing for a change, and I'm going to try the next in the series, called Greenmantle. 

I've been putting away some of the more obviously Christmasy things, but it all takes time. I am in no rush to get rid of Christmas. In recent years, we've had our holiday party afterward, because it's easier to relax and take the time for it. So, I got together with my co-workers the other day and it was very nice. To see young men enjoying the company of older guys and vice versa - it was great. We have a good group.

bumping into Thomas Traherne

I've come across mention of Thomas Traherne a couple of times lately and wonder if I should get some of his writings.

 "Principles are like a seed in the ground; they must be continually visited with heavenly influences or else your life will be a barren field."

                                             -  Thomas Traherne

Epiphany

 "True contentment is a thing as active as agriculture. It is the power of getting out of any situation all that there is in it. It is arduous and it is rare. It is the discipline of Epiphany."

-  G.K. Chesterton

creature comforts

 A tufted titmouse sitting under the back awning, working on breaking into his sunflower seed.

and a squirrel we've observed, twice, sitting on the railing outside, just enjoying the sun.

a Happy New Year

 and a charming one, after snow throughout the night, and now everything looks clean and fresh.

And, my wish for everyone who comes here, whoever you are:

May God, the source and origin of all blessing,
grant you grace,
pour out his blessing in abundance,
and keep you safe from harm throughout the year.

-  Amen

May he give you integrity in the faith,
endurance in hope,
and perseverance in charity
with holy patience to the end.
 - Amen

May he order your days in his peace,
grant your prayers in this and in every place,
and lead you happily to eternal life.
- Amen

AND MAY THE BLESSING OF ALMIGHTY GOD
THE FATHER, THE SON, AND THE HOLY SPIRIT,
COME DOWN ON YOU AND REMAIN IN YOU 
FOR EVER.

- Amen*

*(from Magnificat, of course, from which I'm always quoting and which prints things better than I could say them.)

tiny pleasures, obscure delights

 Well, it was almost fifty today with lots of rain; the snow almost disappeared. Then suddenly, at nine tonight, the winds picked up and the temperature started dropping. Then, a sort of squall, with snow now covering the ground. It will be slippery tomorrow.

Meanwhile, it was so gloomy all day that I even had the window candles plugged in - there were lights all over the place. I love these kind of days at this time of year. 

"...What makes Christmas exciting.... rests on an ancient and admitted paradox. It rests upon the paradox that the power and center of the whole universe may be found in some seemingly small matter, that the stars in their courses may move like a moving wheel around the neglected outhouse of an inn."

- G.K. Chesterton

"The spirit of Christmas is a paradox precisely because its largeness is made manifest in the smallest of ways: in little kindnesses, tiny pleasures, and obscure delights among ordinary people in the simplest of circumstances."

- George Grant and Gregory Wilbur, from Christmas Spirit

this morning

on the fourth day of Christmas

 I'm enjoying the Christmas rest. We had snow again, on Friday, all night. It's been mostly cold, with a warm day every now and then to throw us off. But the roads were clear for our trip to Joanne's on Christmas Day. It will rain tomorrow and melt everything, and winter will have to start over again.

I got a surprise from England - dear Clare sent me chocolates! (They're almost gone, Clare - already.) 

There seems to be a cat coming to the shelter at night; my brother suspected it, and then I saw him cross the bridge and come through the back yard on Monday, an hour before dark. He jumped onto our back step and looked up at the back door window! I was looking out but, strangely, he didn't notice me - he  seemed to be looking at the curtain - he was being very cautious. He didn't want to be seen. So we're trying to use the front door after sunset, but I worked late on Tuesday and forgot - I heard a hurried scrambling and am afraid I scared him away. He seems to still be using the place, because the food gets eaten, but it may be he's coming later. Poor creature, to be so afraid of us! Where did he come from? 

For lo! the days are hastening on,
by prophet bards foretold,
When with the ever circling years
shall come the time foretold
When peace shall over all the earth
its ancient splendors fling,
And the whole world send back the song
which now the angels sing.

- Edmund Hamilton, It Came Upon the Midnight Clear

the irrational season

This is the irrational season

when love blooms bright and wild.

Had Mary been filled with reason

there'd have been no room for the child.

-  Madeleine L'Engle

gingerbread spice recipe

 Last year, I was looking for a gingerbread spice recipe/formula - I had lost mine. I found four or five and made one - wasn't too keen on it. But I saved the others and tried another this year. Oh, the fragrance! 

GINGERBREAD SPICE

2 T allspice
2 T cinnamon
2 T ginger
1 T cloves
1 T nutmeg

pinch black pepper

This is from a website called Liv for Cake, but I saw it somewhere else, too, so I don't know where it originated. But I love it!

"make your house fair as you are able"

I gussied up a little thrifted wreath with a short strand of fairy lights and some bright ribbon. It's on the front door. It has "felt" like Christmas since the beginning of December, with prematurely cold temps and snow, which has hung around because it was too cold for it to melt. Now, with Christmas a week away, we're having a warm spell; the snow is almost gone and it will be over sixty tomorrow! (this is why I left some lighter weight sweaters in my closet) However, it may snow again on Tuesday, which would be very nice and rather convenient, if all goes according to the forecast. 

 I've been thinking again about different ways of viewing the seasons. Winter officially begins on Sunday, and ends late March. Meteorologically, all of December, January and February are the winter months. But this article mentioned something I hadn't heard of before this summer, that there's something called solar winter, which is November, December and January. As for summer, and fall, I can understand a solar season. But there is no way, where I live, that February could ever be thought of as a spring month. And March - sometimes, maybe, a little. And so I figured that since this way of thinking dates back to the Middle Ages, it's a European way of thinking, maybe even British, where the climate isn't as harsh. 

Then I picked up Towers in the Mist:

"It was February the fourteenth, ... The gray mist ... had in it a warmth and fragrance that told of the coming of spring. The smell of the earth was in it, a soft wet earth through which the snowdrops had already driven their green spears... It seemed all there behind the mist, the colors of all the springs that had passed and yet would come again, the riotous music of bird song and falling water that would pour over the earth in so short a while. In the darkest days of January one might doubt if it would come again, but on these warm February days one was certain."

                                                                   -   Elizabeth Goudge

And there you have it, straight from an Englishwoman.

I started the mitts for my friend two weeks ago and then didn't touch them again - for various reasons - but they go along quickly and I picked them up again last night. 

I just need to stick with it.

I hope you all are on track with whatever your Christmas preparations are, and are also able to keep yourselves from anything unrealistic. There has to be some way of balancing one's hopes and expectations with one's reality, i.e., time and energy. 

Make your house fair as you are able.
Trim the hearth and set the table.
People, look east and sing today;
Love, the Guest, is on the way. 

looking ahead

 Give you joy, wolf,
when Messiah makes you meek
and turns your roar into a cry that
justice has been done for the poor.

Give you joy, lamb,
when Messiah saves you from jeopardy
and all fear is overwhelmed 
by his converting grace. 

from Advent Good Wishes, by David Grieve*

*found in Malcolm Guite's Waiting for the Word