I let this space lie fallow for about ten days over Christmas. My blog and my family all needed a little rest, but during that break our lives were full of heartwarming moments, resting, friendship, and joy.

Christmas morning began very early—long before dawn. And while I am far, far from a morning person, I leaped out of bed to make sure the boys didn’t start without us!

We opened gifts from Santa and stockings by the fireplace, while eagerly awaiting the first cup of coffee. Santa gave Lucas a slingshot! He gave Asher some yarn and a kaleidoscope! And both boys got some groovy knights on chargers. The big gift for Lucas was a 4-in-1 woodworking tool that functions as a lathe, jigsaw—and two other things that I forget. Asher got some high density foam dragons that he and Daddy could build.

We had a beautiful Christmas morning, just the four of us and Solstice dog, gathered around our Christmas tree. We watched the world outside our windows lighten and we opened book after wondrous book.

Ian got some new workout gear and a kettle bell (and books). My sweet boys gave me slippers and a cute hat, which Lucas described in detail to Ian before they went looking for it. Ian gave me a gorgeous pair of gray leather boots.

Asher brushed my hair for me.

These are gifts from Asher and Lucas to me and Ian. Asher made a sweet gnome for Daddy and a beautiful silk scarf that he painted for me. Lucas carved this amazing candle stick in woodworking class at school. It is simply wonderful!

We ate yummy sticky buns for breakfast and had time to play and read a little before we went visiting.

The star of the show this year was sweet baby Jack, our new nephew/cousin. It was Jack’s first Christmas and that was so very special for all of us.

Seeing Lucas holding Jack was delightful. He’s just peachy.

After visiting Ian’s family we went to my Mom and Dad’s and visited with them and my brother and his dog Zoe. There were many wonderful presents. My mama knitted me and Ian hats and scarves. The boys got Legos. What more could we ask for? My grand score: six more oil painting classes.

We wrapped up our Christmas by hosting 50 people at a party at our home that evening. Friends from near and far joined us here to celebrate and catch up. Our home was full of love and laughter and charming, smart people. The goth kids arrived at 11 p.m., right on schedule. I think we fell into bed at 2 a.m. on the 26th!

It’s January, so that means snow, right? Well, it does mean snow in lots of places, but not here in Northern California. So, we usually make our own snowflakes to brighten what inevitably becomes a month of fog and rain and mud. These snowflakes are made with Borax laundry booster (sodium borate) to add an ice crystal texture and shine. It takes a few days to make these.

Materials

• white paper or coffee filters
• scissors
• Borax laundry booster
• plates
• boiling water
• needle and thread

Tutorial

Start by cutting out your snowflakes. I tend to love very lacy snowflakes, but for this project I suggest you leave some nice solid areas. My son Lucas theorized that small cuts were better for these, and he may be right.

Boil a little water on the stove. Pour it into a glass mixing bowl and then add Borax until it will no longer dissolve into the water. When you see some borax sitting as a sediment in your bowl, you know your solution is right.

Place each snowflake on a dinner plate. Pour a little of the Borax solution onto the plate—just enough to cover the whole snowflake. Now you wait.

The Borax will start to crystallize on the paper and plate. As it dries, the water will become clearer. You can gently pour off the excess water to speed the drying process. Allow the snowflakes to dry completely, the very carefully pry them up off the plate with a butter knife.

Some of the Borax may fall off, but most of it will stick to the paper. With your needle and thread, sew a few stitches at the top of your crystal snowflakes and then hang them in the window where they sun can glint off their crystals.

Enjoy!

Materials

• white wool batting
• a board, such as a painting board or serving tray, to serve as a base
• figurines (gnomes, animals, people of any material you have)
• driftwood, bark, sticks, pine cones, rocks, etc.
• small bit of silk

Tutorial

This winter playscape can be assembled inexpensively and remade again and again. It can be either temporary or permanent, as you wish.

Buy a bag of wool batting. This material is often used as stuffing for toys or pillows, or can be wet-felted or needle felted. It is extremely versatile for all kinds crafting and fiber arts. It often comes in one- or two-pound bags. Tear off a layer of batting to make snow and place it on your playscape base. Add other bits to cover your base. Try to add a hiding place, such as a wooden cave or build a little den make of driftwood or sticks. Layer some more snow over the top of it.

If you have a small bit of silk, you can create a silken creek, perhaps. Now add some figures such as gnomes or animals. Or add some people.

You might also add a special rock or two. If you have a mama and baby animal pair, they might like to cuddle into the den you made. Resist the temptation to fill the scene or complicate it will too many toys.

Leave this simple scene for your children to find. They will elaborate upon it, change it, and remake it as they play. Their fingers will be warmed and comforted by the feel of the soft wool. They will respond to it and the feel of the wood and rocks in this simple scene.

If you find your child playing with the winter scene, ask him or her to tell you the story of what‟s happening. Or just listen to the play.

(When the play is done, the wool can go back into your craft supplies to be made into something else.)

It is nearing the end of winter vacation. I am grateful for the good weather. The boys are playing outside. Asher is “painting” the window with a paintbrush and what I hope is water. Lucas is bouncing on a pogo stick. It’s a ka-chuncka-sqeak sound, over and over. Neighbor kids are in the play house.

Later I peek out and see Lucas cracking ice in the birdbath. A wave of noise floods the backyard when they tumble through the gate, then trickles out again as they move to the street in front of the house.

Some construction or demolition is happening nearby. I can hear the drone of heavy machinery doing work. The soundtrack in the house is the drone of the dryer, which I believe is trying to die.

Now I hear the boys playing stick wars outside, dueling it out with found tree branches, with smaller sticks-as-daggers stabbed through belt loops. They can never have too many stick weapons. I worry about their constant war games. But I have long since learned that I can sooner stop the moon from fattening than I can stop their games. To me they are frighteningly fierce. The boys ignore my pleas to play nicely. I am frequently told to chill out. At the present moment, I am grateful that their bickering and battling is taking place outside our home and not in it. There have been far too many arguments these last few days. Alas, it’s almost dark now and they will come galumphing in the front door soon.

I have all manner of things I want to be doing. My mind is full of chattering thoughts. I sit here, trying to refocus on what I have to do, telling myself to just be. I cannot to all. The. Things. I can only do one thing at a time (plus keep the clothes washer and dryer going).

Back to the editing. I tell myself that I can have a reward when I reach the end of this chapter. I can check Facebook, or write a few words here. I have already rewarded myself several times today with breakfast (after some work), with a shower (after some work). That’s how I roll, how I work alone year after year and stay motivated. Some days—especially dull days—I even break out teeth brushing as a separate reward for slogging through. “Want oral hygiene? Finish this chapter!” Hear the whip crack?

So, in the back of my mind, while I edit fantasy wars for couch-ridden adventurers with thumbs, I am kinda planning out some goals for myself, for this blog, for my work. I had a little time today to lift my head and look up, while the boys were away with grandma. I put a few events on the calendar. It seems that on 1/3 I am able to finally begin my new year.

Well, that’s where I am. Here.

New Year’s Eve was delightful. After a Chinese buffet dinner out last night, we enjoyed a lovely NYE celebration with friends. We met new people and enjoyed ourselves immensely. My sweet Asher passed out on the host child’s bed at around 10 p.m., in the midst of a room full of playing, shouting children. Amazing! (There’s something extremely sensible about this boy.)

Today, we cleaned our home and have started the slow process of moving Christmas out of the house. We’ll take our time with that. We’re still enjoying having our tree up, shining cheerfully in our living room. We are still enjoying our Twelve Days of Christmas!

This evening we had a small, simple family ritual to ring in the New Year, and this is the real topic of this post. We made a wishing jar! We cut little pieces of paper and then wrote our wishes and hopes for the new year on them. We included personal goals and things we want for our whole family. We wished for good health, peace, safety, and tranquil minds. We hope for new opportunities and prosperity. We hope for more family vacations and fun with friends. Lucas is hoping to do well in the pentathlon that will be held later this spring. Ian’s planning on running a half-marathon and two-Two-TWO Tough Mudder events this year. Asher might learn to ride a bike without training wheels. Both of our boys will be getting new teachers at the end of this school year, so we’re wishing for good, creative, clever, wonderful new teachers for the fall. I hope for more book-writing and more oil painting. For some of our loved ones, we wished for a wedding; for peace for the living who have recently lost family; and for an acceptable end to a long-held dispute. In short, we want good living, good learning, and plenty of love!

We spoke about what we were writing on our papers, and discussed how we might achieve some of these goals. We feel that thinking about our goals and saying them aloud or writing them out gives us a better chance of achieving them. This is a way of making our dreams manifest; our ritual actions help to make our desires a reality. We can support each other.

We rolled our strips of paper containing our wishes around our pens and pencils to coil them. Then we placed them in our mason jar.

We could have stopped here, sealed up our jar, and been finished. But we wanted to finish the project in a beautiful way. We took turns pouring colored sand into our jar fill of paper wishes. We gently shook our jar side-to-side to get each colored layer to settle down. Asher and Lucas both got to pour in their favorite colors.

And here is our result: our completed 2013 wishing jar. I wish these photos were prettier, but it was evening and I think you can sill get the idea. We now have a rainbow jar full of our hopes and dreams for 2013. The sand layers obscure them and make them private, passers-by in our home cannot read them, which was a concern for our 10-year-old, who now has his own private life and thoughts. We wrote 2013 on the top of the jar. It will stand in our kitchen, or perhaps on a shelf in our home, where it can gently remind us of our goals for our family.

Making this wishing jar felt good. I’m full of optimism and hope for this year!

2012: The year that featured plenty of Big and Scary and Sad. I learned so much this year and I am grateful for all the opportunities and lessons it brought, although I often didn’t like learning them. I’ve watched us dig deep and come out older, wiser, and sadder but with a greater capacity to love.

Plenty of amazing and beautiful things happened, too. When I look through photos from the year, I see so much color, so much light, so much adventure, so much growth.

I asked my family what were the best parts of 2012 for them.

Lucas’s Favorities:
He got to ride the biggest roller coaster on the SC Boardwalk and do the Haunted House for the first time.
This Christmas—“What part?” I asked. “The Christmas part.” I think he means everything about Christmas.
The world didn’t end. He’s glad about that.

Ian’s Favorites:
He finished his second Tough Mudder at Diablo Grande in the California Central Valley.
Our family trip to Santa Cruz in September, when we visited the Monterey Bay Aquarium and the Santa Cruz Beach Boardwalk with Ian’s brother Danny.
Both of our summer camping trips to Grover Hot Springs with our beloved Barbarians and DL Bliss State Park with our Waldorf school chums.

Asher’s Favorities:
His. Own. Legos. And playing Legos any chance he gets.
Being an “Older” in Kindergarten and all the great responsibility that entails.
Playing D&D with Daddy and Brother. Playing with Solstice dog.
“Writing books. Annoying my brother. Getting presents from Santa.”

My Favorities:
Watching Lucas play Thor in the spring fourth grade play and Hanuman in the Ramayana in the fall.
Painting, especially my landscape class and how challenging it was.
Writing e-books and publishing festival e-books with Eileen at Little Acorn Learning.
I am closer now to some friends than before and that feels wonderful.
Celebrating so many lovely holidays with my family. Creating joy and memories.
My birthday wine-tasting excursion with my friends.
Family Clay Camp with my kiddos in the summer.

Happy New Year! May you find new richness in the everyday, new opportunities, new friends, and new delights in 2013. May you find peace and laughter, forgiveness and love for self and others.

It was a beautiful glowing dawn on this Winter Solstice day, with a vivid slice of a rainbow in the west—a very nice way to end the solar year. I’m both grateful for all we enjoy—our blessings are truly innumerable—and hopeful that the new year will bring more love, more laughter, more art and play and leisure, and more light.

Dimmest and brightest month am I;
My short days end, my lengthening days begin;
What matters more or less sun in the sky,
When all is sun within?
—Christina Georgina Rossetti

Our sun does shine within, through all our trials both great and small. Each day we wake and pour our love and light into the world. We do our best.

I’m not one to dwell on signs, but I’ll happily take this one: a rainbow as a parting gift and a cleansing, cold rain to bring in the new solar year.

Good people all this happy tide,
Consider well and bear in mind,
All that strong love for us can do
When we remember our promise true.

Now love itself stands in this place
With glorious beauty and pleasant grace;
To welcome us with open heart
And raise up welcome in every hearth.

Whatever life on us bestows,
Love’s mantle round our shoulders goes
Remembering this day’s delight,
To bring us help and mercy bright.

When darkest winter draweth near,
The light is kindled without fear;
Love sparks at Midwinter so deep,
This blessed time in our hearts keep.

When coldest winter draweth near,
Turn we to joy and make good cheer;
Remembering our vows so strong,
We raise our voices in this song.

Drive darkest want and need away,
Remember we this happy day.
Call love to witness, everyone,
And dance beneath the winter sun.
—Caitlin Matthews

Today is full of preparations. I braved Costco for our holiday food shopping and left only when I couldn’t fit anything else in the cart. We had five guests over after school, a kind of unplanned end-of-term party. My boys are ready for a rest, which is not to say that they aren’t brimming with excitement about the holidays. They are just ready for some snuggling-in time, some extra time with each other and with Mom and Dad.

We are celebrating the Solstice tonight with a big pot of chili and a golden cornbread. We’ll have a fire in our fireplace and give lots of love to our little Solstice dog.

One year ago today, this golden fluffy creature bounded into my home with great excitement and settled in. It took me a while to accept that he was staying, but that was true only for me. Everyone else adopted him from the first moment. Now, I can honestly say, he has been a shining light of love and comfort among a whole lot of difficult stuff that happened in 2012. We’ve decided that today is Solstice’s “birthday.” Now we have even more to celebrate on the Winter Solstice!

Blessings of light and love to you on this first day of winter. May your hearts be full to overflowing, so that you may spread warmth, light, and cheer through all the dark days of winter.

Blessed be.

Our second week of Advent was full of plant goodness. We got our Christmas tree from a local lot—our schedules didn’t permit the usual trek up to the foothills to cut a tree at a tree farm. Rather than worry about that, we nabbed a gorgeous tree in about 10 minutes flat and had a whole afternoon to leisurely decorate it, while enjoying Christmas music, hot tea, and candy canes.

It’s truly a beautiful tree, even if this photo isn’t.

I love unpacking our ornaments. This year, both boys got into the spirit of hanging ornaments and they told some of the origin stories themselves.

With boughs from the tree lot and bay laurel from my tree, I made a fresh wreath for our door. I bought a wreath last year and had the presence of mind to save the wire frame, so making this was a breeze. It cost me $1.50 for the reindeer and the ribbon. We made the stars last year and I love them.

I had enough boughs leftover from the wreath project to make a whole garland for my mantel. It looks very much like last year’s mantel except for the real greenery. I adore the straw stars.

Ian and the kids put up lights on our house and I added ornaments to some trees by our front door. It’s all rather festive!

My garden currently features green tomato vines that I am gradually feeding to my chickens, growing cauliflower plants, and sugar snap pea shoots popping up in a pot. The tree out front is still full of golden stars. The heavenly bamboo is sporting gorgeous red bird berries.

I’m happy to have the Steiner practice of celebrating the four kingdoms during Advent to guide the schedule of some of our holiday traditions. It helps to have things spread out over the month instead of all at once, in an overwhelming tide of stuff-to-do. This week was indeed full of plants.

The truth is, I feel kind of stupid even writing about all of this because none of it matters in light of the tragic event in Connecticut. It has shaken me deeply—and I may be dwelling on it too much. What does it matter that my silly traditions go on, or happen on schedule? That we spend time beautifying our home and making it ready for the light and laughter and friendship and love that is our Christmas? It matters not at all compared to life and death and ultimate loss.

Or maybe it does matter.

Getting back to normal, participating in all the everyday acts of love and friendship, and celebrating life are the path to healing, I think. And it feels awkward and weird and yet what else is there to do? We hold our loved ones close, spend quality time, hug our friends, protect our children, and invest in love and beauty, happiness, grace, and gratitude.

I guess. It’s my strategy for now, anyway.

May we all find moments of happiness and peace in the coming weeks. May we find a way to celebrate and heal.

I am somehow both pan-religious and nonreligious, both Catholic and pagan. I don’t really know how all of that exists simultaneously in my heart and mind, but somehow it does. For a long time I thought that was an untenable state, and expected that sooner or later I would have to commit to being and believing one thing or another, and not all things and none all at once. But I’ve lived in this state for many years now, and truthfully it shows no sign of coming to some cataclysmic end. Somehow this all-encompassing, tolerant nonbelief system of mine works just fine.

Most of the time.

When terrible things happen, though, there’s no rulebook for me to turn to. All the various religious answers about death and dying, loss, and grief fall flat. The feel-better remarks and there-theres don’t work for me. All I know is that I have to feel my feelings all the way through them, for as long as I need to, until I release them (or until they release me—I’m not sure which it really is). I don’t know if that’s healthy or not healthy. It’s just how I am.

I found this poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay. I understand this.

I am not resigned to the shutting away of loving hearts in the hard ground.
So it is, and so it will be, for so it has been time out of mind:
Into the darkness they go, the wise and the lovely. Crowned
With lilies and laurel they go; but I am not resigned.

Lovers and thinkers, into the earth with you.
Be one with the dull, the indiscriminate dust.
A fragment of what you felt, what you knew,
A formula, a phrase remains, but the best is lost.

The answers quick and keen, the honest look, the laughter, the love,
They are gone. They are gone to feed the roses. Elegant and curled
Is the blossom. Fragrant is the blossom. I know. But I do not approve.
More precious was the light in your eyes than all the roses in the world.

Down, down into the darkness of the grave
Gently they go, the beautiful, the tender, the kind;
Quietly they go, the intelligent, the witty, the brave.
I know. But I do not approve. And I am not resigned.

—Edna St. Vincent Millay

We all have to navigate life’s injustices and sorrows in our own way. There is no script that fits all actors in this play. We have our rites and rituals, our traditions of marking difficult passages. They are useful and good for many. But they are not perfect. And no funeral or day of mourning or flag at half-mast brings an end to the grief. Grieving continues and passes through many stages. We are not resigned.

A long time ago I worked at a funeral home. I spent my workdays with grieving people and people whose job was to help grieving people. A co-worker, Barbara, who had lost her husband many years before, once said to me something I’ll never forget. “After the funeral, all the people go home. The funeral was closure for them. But the grieving goes on for the loved ones, the spouse, the parent. For them, the grief stays.”

Just as our happy moments, our loves, and our triumphs build together and become part of who we are, so do our sorrows knit themselves into our bones.

So how do we cope and what is normal? All of it. Normal is preparing for Christmas with tears falling down one’s cheeks. Normal is gathering with friends and loved ones, smiling and laughing even with a broken heart. Normal is putting one weary foot in front of the other, making breakfast, enforcing room-cleaning, and cuddling precious children to sleep even while you hear the imaginary wolves scratching at the door. All of this depth of feeling and contradiction can exist simultaneously, too. Life is mucky and confusing. It is never as neat as a greeting card.

We say our prayers—or not. We light our candles and weep and gather together. We look to our heroes, spiritual leaders, and poets. We make sandwiches and feed chickens and watch movies for relief. Our hearts break, and we gradually put them back together—with wise compassion and great waves of Love.

We are changed. And that is normal.

Good morning! And happy Santa Lucia Day!

We ate a lovely breakfast of eggs and Lussekatter buns. Daddy told us about winter in Sweden and Santa Lucia Day—about how he used to walk to school in the dark and he wouldn’t see the sun until lunchtime, and then would have to walk home in the dark at 3 p.m.

The Lussekatter turned out beautifully this year. My recipe is on my post from last year. These simple celebrations are getting me ready for Solstice and Christmas, I think. There’s something exciting about baking at 10 p.m. And while I am in no way a “morning person,” I love early morning magic!

I made two star boy crowns yesterday afternoon for $2 each. They are … improvised. A wreath and a 6 foot length of very soft “florist wire,” both from the Dollar Store. I just bent the wire into three continuous stars and put a little wave in between them, then wrapped the ends around the back of the wreath and tucked them in. This design fit the small wreath perfectly.

I have everything I need to make pointy felt star boy hats like the ones Ian wore when he celebrated Santa Lucia Day at his university in Sweden in 1993, but I didn’t get the time to do it this year.

I think the crowns are cute, but my own stjärngossar (star boys) didn’t much want to wear them. Alas.

It rained last night, and there are shimmering jewels on the branches, sparkling in the weak winter sun.

Have a beautiful day!