On Thursday we spent lots of time outside, enjoying in the beautiful weather: clear, dry, seasonably bracing but not frigid. As the boys helped me split wood we talked about how much we would need for the Solstice fire, and about how much fun it would be. Then yesterday the temperature shot up into the mid 60s and it rained all day. No fire; we had to content ourselves with lighting candles at the dinner table and sharing thoughts about the turning of the year. This afternoon everyone was busy with their own things—and I needed some time to myself—so I headed out to do a fire myself. Everything was still pretty soaked, so it was good and smoky and an interesting challenge to get going. Then I watched it for a bit and thought about new beginnings.
We studied historical solstice celebrations some earlier this month (to the extent that we could; the library isn't exactly full of appropriate materials). The picture book we read talked about how midwinter was a scary time for the ancients, not knowing if the sun was ever going to return. We thought that was silly: wouldn't anyone old enough to formulate that question have lived through enough cycles to start to see a pattern?! Let's not sell our ancestors short. But there's no doubt that midwinter is magical moment, full of mystery and promise. All the more so when it coincides with a full moon, like it did this year. I've had a tough time of it over the past year. Watching the fire this evening I have hope that something might be changing.