Solstice. Winter. Yule.What do you call it? The longest darkness, the beginning of the return of the light. A pattern evolves for us at this time of year for family and farm. We snuggle in at home - less outside time, lots of layers, fireplace, candles - all quiet since Spring gave us a long respite. The cold and the dark make the house a cozy haven with more chess playing, more books, and baking.
The farm means frosty breath clouds over the heads of the sheep, snow on the llama's back and rime around his mouth. Rushed chores, wet gloves as buckets slosh. The whoosh of hay being thrown from the loft to the feeders below and the quiet sounds of contented animals safely enclosed in their winter pens give a sense of accomplishment and our own moment of peace.
A poem for solstice, (copied and pasted from someone else's blog) for your reading pleasure: