The Sun in Winter

Pale sun goes sailing
Through the frozen sky;
Trees raise to him their arms
As he goes by.
Haste, sun, grow brighter
As the days go past;
Wake from their sleep the buds
And leaves at last.

My day started with a gorgeous trail run with my friend.

The kids played with the neighborhood boys, and just at sunset, Ian got to explain to the kids what the winter solstice is—that the earth’s axis is 23.5 degrees tilted to the plane of her orbit, and thus we have seasons of more sun and less sun, and that after this shortest day, the hours of sunlight each will get longer for the the next six months.

We declined a party invitation with regret, and celebrated at home on Saturday evening. It was quiet. It was cozy.

It was a little dark, just as I wanted it to be. The candlelight was lovely.

We had a meal of Greek avgolemono soup, fruit salad, green spinach salad with little yellow squash suns, and a honey suncake for dessert. Simple and delicious. I had a vision, so the kids and Ian just relaxed while I prepared it. I loved the part when I called them in to eat, and everything was glowing, perfect, and pretty. I only wish the boys had enjoyed the soup more.

And I convinced my darling boys to do some art with me. We painted these pretty sun symbols. Now we can hang them to remind us of how grateful we are for the sun’s warmth and light. They could be Yule or Christmas ornaments, or a kind of mobile. I don’t know yet. But I love them.

And as for our furry friend, Solstice the dog—we celebrated his second anniversary in our home. He got some new treats and a new rope toy. We adore him.

This year, the shortest day of the year comes on a Saturday, so I’m dreaming of a family celebration. Something simple. A special sunny meal. Some art perhaps. A fire in the fireplace. Although we celebrate Christmas in our home, I also have a need for a modest, private, no-fuss solstice night on our terms.

I’m thinking avgolemono soup.

I’m thinking salad with persimmons, mandarins, apples, and pomegranate seeds, with a touch of orange blossom water—but not on Asher’s portion because he thinks it’s gross.

I’m thinking a sunny, honey cake.

I’m thinking of a simple craft we can do together.

We have a second important reason to celebrate the winter solstice. It is the second anniversary of this sweet fellow being in our lives. I realize it might be confusing: My dog is named Solstice because he came to us on the winter solstice two years ago. He was and is the best solstice present ever given to any four people ever.

This week I had Asher home sick for three days. It was a sweet kind of time together, as it forced me to slow down and step away from my work. We read lots of books together (“Read me more about castles, Mama”) and did some Christmas preparations that otherwise probably wouldn’t have been done. For example, I made a long evergreen garland for the eave at my front door.

It’s quite long and pretty, made of fir branches, plus some box, redwood, lemon leaf, and bay accents, and features some simple homemade ornaments: wooden stars, toadstools, spirals. It’s very festive for Yule.

We made the pretty pentacle at the top with Virginia creeper vines that Asher cut and I wove into a wreath. We accented its points with bay leaves polished with a touch of olive oil.

We made wooden star ornaments for teacher gifts and painted them “emperor gold.”

Asher played at being a Sun Warrior. He came up with this outfit on his own, and then asked me to do a photo shoot while he jumped and ran around the backyard with a sword and a “spear.” My little Apollo. We got some great action shots. (Why is it that kids are most sick at night and the morning, when it’s time to go to school, but not very sick at all in the middle of the day?)

We have observed Advent, and Asher has gradually added more and more stone, plant, and animal items to our Advent wreath. (He snuck a Bob the Builder doll in there too.)

We’ve watched Mother Mary progress along her sky path of stars on her way to Christmas Day.

I finally found a way to use some gold colored wire that I salvaged from a school fundraiser auction event several years ago. (Why do I keep this stuff for years? Oh, because occasionally I actually DO something with it.) Anyway, it’s very soft, pliable stuff and I made some sun ornaments from it. They’re not fancy, but are shiny and pretty.

So, that’s what’s going on as we enter into this holy week. Whatever holiday you observe, I hope you can gather your family together, either in body or in spirit, and take some time to reflect on what’s most important to you. This moment in our solar year is perfect for listening to your quietest, innermost voice. What is yearning to be born in this moment of stillness? What spark is born in the darkness?

“In the depth of winter I finally learned that there was in me an invincible summer.” —Albert Camus

Sunlight is flooding
The widths of space
The son of the birds echoes
Through the realms of the air
The blessing of plants sprouts
From the being of the earth
And human souls lift themselves
In feelings of thankfulness
To the Spirits of the World.

—Rudolf Steiner

Happy Summer Solstice! Here is a little tea concoction I made and it was so yummy, we’ll definitely do this again:

• two green tea bags
• lemon slices, squeezed into the water
• lemon balm leaves
• sweetener of your choice

(Steep all day, strain, and then chill before drinking.)

We have had a marvelous day and I hope you have, too.

We made a giant summer sun mosaic cookie together. Here it is before baking. And here is the basic giant cookie recipe from Mel’s Kitchen Cafe. This kind of thing goes over really big with my children. Lucas made the face; Asher did the eyebrows and the sun rays around the outside. Since the boys got soooo excited about putting the Reese’s candies on top, I realize now that I didn’t need to put peanut butter chips into the dough.

We painted suns, inspired by my co-author and friend Eileen Straiton’s project in our Midsummer Festival E-Book. I think once they’re dry we’ll hang them.

Then we had a beautiful Solstice feast of shrimp tostadas and several fresh salads. I needed lots of circles and colors and fresh veggies in this meal. We even added in some nasturtiums from our garden. We had so much gorgeous food, I wished we had guests to share it with! This is one of my favorite things: Eating amazing California food outside in summertime, when the day has been hot but the evening delta breezes pick up just in time.

“Give me the splendid silent sun with all his beams full-dazzling.” —Walt Whitman

Also, today marks six months since our little dog Solstice came to our family. He followed our boys home on December 21 and hasn’t left our side since then. We love him so much, and we’re all grateful to have him.

Here’s to unexpected blessings that follow you home and take up residence in your heart.

Here’s to abundance of joy, nourishment, learning, and opportunity.

Here’s to family traditions carefully conceived and simply crafted.

Here’s to courage, doing good, and generosity.

Blessed Be.

Oh, I am a little bit excited! Happy Solstice! I don’t know whether to read poetry or rush outside to try to capture the Lunar eclipse with my camera. We didn’t do too much to celebrate ~ apart from spending the day all together, working on our various Christmas projects, making art, relaxing, running through the leaves, and listening to some wonderful music tonight. (Thank you Jethro Tull!) The kids and I read The Winter Solstice, a picture book by Ellen Jackson.

Where exactly is the nearest bonfire?

“Ring Out, Solstice Bells” by Jethro Tull

Now is the solstice of the year,
winter is the glad song that you hear.
Seven maids move in seven time.
Have the lads up ready in a line.

Ring out these bells.
Ring out, ring solstice bells.
Ring solstice bells.

Join together beneath the mistletoe.
by the holy oak whereon it grows.
Seven druids dance in seven time.
Sing the song the bells call, loudly chiming.

Ring out these bells.
Ring out, ring solstice bells.
Ring solstice bells.

Praise be to the distant sister sun,
joyful as the silver planets run.
Seven maids move in seven time.
Sing the song the bells call, loudly chiming.
Ring out those bells.
Ring out, ring solstice bells.
Ring solstice bells.
Ring on, ring out.
Ring on, ring out.

And here’s one more, that suits my frame of mind on this darkest night.

“Lord of the Dance” (Traditional)

I danced in the morning when the world was begun
I danced in the moon and the stars and the sun;
I was called from the darkness by the song of the earth,
I joined in the singing and she gave me birth.

Dance, then, wherever you may be!
I am the Lord of the Dance, said he,
And I’ll lead you on, wherever you may be, I will lead you all in the Dance, said he!

I sleep in the kernel and I dance in the rain,
I dance in the wind, and through the waving grain,
And when you cut me down, I care nothing for the pain —
In Spring I’ll be Lord of the Dance again!

Dance, then, wherever you may be!
I am the Lord of the Dance, said he,
And I’ll lead you on, wherever you may be, I will lead you all in the Dance, said he!

I see the maidens laughing as they dance in the sun,
I count the fruits of the of the harvest, one by one;
I know the storm is coming, but the grain is all stored,
So I sing of the dance of the Lady and the Lord.

Dance, then, wherever you may be!
I am the Lord of the Dance, said he,
And I’ll lead you on, wherever you may be, I will lead you all in the Dance, said he!

We dance ever slower as the leaves fall and spin
And the sound of the Horn is the wailing of the wind;
The Earth is wrapped in stillness and we move in a trance,
but we hold on fast to our faith in the dance.

Dance, then, wherever you may be!
I am the Lord of the Dance, said he,
And I’ll lead you on, wherever you may be, I will lead you all in the Dance, said he!

The sun is in the south and the days lengthen fast,
And soon we’ll sing for the winter that is past,
Now we light the candles and rejoice as they burn,
and Dance the dance of the sun’s return.

Dance, then, wherever you may be!
I am the Lord of the Dance, said he,
And I’ll lead you on, wherever you may be, I will lead you all in the Dance, said he!

They cut me down, but I leap up high!
I am life that will never, never die.
I’ll live in you and you’ll live in me—
I am the Lord of the Dance, said he!

Dance, then, wherever you may be!
I am the Lord of the Dance, said he,
And I’ll lead you on, wherever you may be, I will lead you all in the Dance, said he!

The moon in her phases and the tides of the sea,
the movement of Earth, and the seasons that will be
Are rhythm for the dancing and a promise through the years—
The Dance goes on through joy and tears.

May your homes be full of love and light. May you find a moment to nurture your own inner spark, that source of all of your own inspiration, generosity, compassion, and love. Let it shine in the darkness!