the squibix family blog

Because it was subbing in for Park Day, there were lots of people there: everybody already had the time blocked off on their schedule. Lots of food too, and some it was even healthy! Besides eating, the kids played in the woods or on the climbing structure (or talked in the woods or around the picnic tables, in the case of the older ones). There was karaoke; Harvey sang lots of songs, and I joined him for some Hamilton. And of course the fire was a big draw. Besides the broccoli, people roasted marshmallows, hot dogs, and chocolate, plus incinerating lots of leaves on the ends of the hot dog forks. And before the fire burned down too low I jumped over it, as tradition demands (twice actually, since some people missed it the first time and I crave attention).

So it's winter now... bring on the snow and ice!

We met these friends in the fall—they're part of our park day group—but we've never been to their house. Mainly because it's a million miles away, all the way out west in Dunstable. But that means they have plenty of yard to run and play in, and also that they live near a beautiful meadow where we started the party picking flowers to make into solstice crowns.

Once we all had several armfuls we went to their house, where we sat around a fire and ate for the next six hours or so. Well, I guess we didn't sit the whole time. They have a trampoline and there was a bounce house, so the kids got lots of exercise (I may have taken a bounce or two myself). We helped a stray duck get back into her run. We played some music. I got a little less horrible walking on a slackline. Some of the kids made a seesaw. It was a fun time! Oh, and I jumped over the fire.

In Latvia, we hear, sunset on the solstice is at around 11:30. That's why they need strong solstice traditions, like the crowns and the solstice cheese pictured below. We didn't last that long, but it was still starting to get dark as we finally pulled ourselves away at quarter to nine. Good party! I hope they'll invite us again next year.

Which was good because we really appreciated the chance to get warm inside and out. It wasn't super cold—and the ground wasn't covered in a foot of snow like last year—but there was a damp chill in the air and it wasn't weather that would typically encourage people to linger outside. But on this night, linger we did!

At least for a little bit. It was still a school night, after all, for those kids who have to go to school; the solstice isn't as important in the public school curriculum as it is among homeschoolers of our vaguely Waldorf-influenced set. But that was ok, because after everyone left and we finished all the cleanup—which took some time!—the fire had died down enough for us to be able to jump over it. Which three of us did! True, it wasn't really a bonfire any longer, but I think it should still count. Now the sun can come back!

It was organized by the moderator of the Greater Lowell Homeschoolers Facebook group, who also brought supplies to make paper bag lanterns. Some of our good friends were there, and also some folks we hadn't met before. It was a short walk—it was already getting dark when we started and most of the group wasn't hardy outdoorsmen like us—but still delightful.

Best of all was that the ice on the pond was about an inch thick, even after barely 24 hours of good freezing weather. Parents were nervous, but the brave kids had a grand time slipping and sliding close to the shore, and nobody got any worse than wet hands and feet. Much fun; and I consider the Yule to have been properly Welcomed. Now let's party!

Actually, it took a little more thought than usual, since it's hard to light a fire when the ground is covered with a foot of snow. But I was prepared! The day before the storm I built a cover for our fire pit, and then the day after I shoveled it off so melting snow wouldn't drip in. That meant that this afternoon when the sun touched the horizon we had a dry bed to start what we grandly called our solstice bonfire (just slightly bigger than the fires we would use to cook on). It went up beautifully with just one match; that's a good omen for the year to come, I think.

Some friends came by to share our light in the darkness, and it was fine. The adults (and Harvey) talked, and the littler kids played in the snow (after toasting marshmallows, of course).

Happy solstice, everyone!

It's by Susan Cooper, the author of the "Dark Is Rising" series, and illustrated by Carson Ellis, and it's fantastic. Cooper's poetry doesn't come from careful word choice but from connecting with the power of the season, which is just what I was looking for a ceremonial read-aloud. And Ellis's watercolor illustrations are a great mix of down-to-earth realism and mythic fantasy—they made me think of a modern children's book version of William Blake. (She's also the author of a pair of picture books that I recommend highly: Du Iz Tak? and Home.)

Of course, I'd love it if some other good writers stepped up to tackle solstice stories. I mean, the magic! As it is, though, the people who care enough aren't very good writers and don't have access to real editors—there's a self-published book about the eight quarter and cross-quarter days at the library, but it's cringeingly awful. But at least now there's one winter solstice book. Maybe I'll buy it for next year.

With the fire roaring I read everybody a solstice story, and then most of the kids ran inside as quick as they could and played in the warm house the rest of the time. That's fine, playing inside is also a traditional midwinter activity—moreso that marshmallows, probably, which is the only thing that kept any of the kids outside.

On the solstice proper we attended a wonderful caroling party bursting with Christmastime cheer and lots of good food (I was also bursting by the time we headed home!). We were among the first to arrive and also the first to depart, due to Lijah's tiredness; but that was fine because it left the rest of us, who did not fall asleep in the car, plenty of time to have our real solstice fire, the one in the actual dark. I promised the boys that they could stay up and keep the fire going all night or for fifteen minutes, whichever came first. As much as we all wanted to stay out longer, that was about right.

Besides the solstice, we were also celebrating the Concord River and its tributaries, so the party was called Riverfest. It's happened for a few years now, but this is the first time we managed to make it—and now that we did, I'm sorry to have missed it before! So many fun things there. We started off making some art; Harvey was feeling grumpy, but the woman running the art table was so energetic and encouraging she drew him out of his funk, and once launched he worked on his project for quite a while. Lijah doesn't have patience for long-term projects, and after a few minutes he decided he wanted to get his face painted. I was amazed and proud to see him handle the whole thing, from standing in line to telling the young woman what he wanted to be (a white bunny) all by himself! The transformation was startling.

Next we listened to (and participated in!) some river-themed kids music. When that wrapped up we went for a little canoe trip downstream... but not very far downstream, because the current was running fast and we didn't want to work too hard on the way back! It felt very companionable with dozens of boats out on the river. Most of them weren't even taking any part in Riverfest, but that didn't mean they were enjoying the river any less! When we got back to the bridge the boys all went for a swim—even Harvey, who chose not to bring a swimsuit along on the trip. Never mind, the sun was hot!

Then it was time for the most exciting part of the afternoon, the cardboard boat race. As tempted as I was to sign us up as participants, I though it would be more prudent to watch one year before jumping right in. So we spent a relaxing hour wandering among the busy teams of cardboard crafters and eating snacks. I think we learned some things about what it takes to get cardboard to float. As the race itself kicked off, we certainly witnessed plenty of examples of what not to do!

As we talked about the festival in the days leading up to the solstice Mama decided that, all in all, it sounded like a little much to her. But as dinner time approached things were pretty calm, so I invited her to join us for dinner (plus, she could bring Harvey some dry clothes!). Some friends showed up just a little later, so the nine of us shared a peaceful picnic while listening to some lovely bluegrass/country/oldies played by an acoustic trio. Well, it was peaceful for the adults and Harvey... the four smaller boys entered into some freewheeling—and occasionally violent!—play with the other young picnickers.

As it started to get dark, the festival organizers started up a fire. While it wasn't totally the solstice bonfire I'd been anticipating, it was plenty big enough to toast the marshmallows they'd thoughtfully provided for smores. The boys wished there was enough to have more than one, but it was a pretty good-sized crowd.

The day concluded with a solstice singalong on the Old North Bridge, while those of us with boats paddled around beneath with candle lanterns glowing. Plus the bubble guy was there to make the atmosphere even more magical. What do you sing at a solstice singalong in Concord, MA? Some Beatles, a couple tunes from Hair, "This Land is Your Land"... stuff like that. As it got dark at last you could even start to see the lanterns.

Then we turned for home. The boys have fallen asleep in the car lots of times; this was the first time they ever did in the boat. We celebrated the heck out of that solstice!

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.

No, that's not quite true... there was a little more than that. Last summer our complete formlessness was a little trying at times, so I'm trying to hold on to a bit of a schedule even as the weather calls us to wild outdoor adventures (and to lying around on the hammock...). After breakfast we spent some time thinking about how stories are structured, and then Harvey and Zion did some writing/dictating of their own accounts of playing in the rain yesterday. It was fun, and it made the rest of the delightfully relaxing day all the sweeter. A good start to the season; let's keep it going tomorrow!