So, do we say "Twenty-Ten" or "Two Thousand and Ten"? I remember pondering this very question at the turn of the century... no one knew the answer back then but figured it would sort itself out by the time it actually rolled around. Well, here we are... now what?
In our family, 2010 is also known as "The Year of the Time Capsule". Way back when - 12 or 13 years ago, was it? - the kids and I made a project of studying each decade of the 20th Century. We saved the box that some of the materials came in; it was colorful and sturdy and would suit our purposes quite well. We wanted to create a family time capsule, to be opened waaaaay down the road, in 2010, an almost inconceivable time-span away.
We made up a questionnaire for each of us to answer, added some pictures, a copy of the local newspaper complete with the grocery ads, and also put in various objects (none of which I remember now). After reading everyone's entries aloud - to the amusement of us all - the whole thing was duct-taped shut and set in the basement for safe-keeping. A solemn vow was made that we would all gather again, knowing even then that Life would have led us far and wide by that time, so we could open the capsule together.
Every year I would write on the December page of the new calendar, "Remember: Time Capsule - 2010". And now, here we are, right on the verge of that particular year.
Our youngest, Kerry, has been Keeper of the Capsule since the break-up of our old farm. (We love these kinds of honorary titles in our family!) One day, in the midst of all the hustle and bustle and trauma of moving out, she gave a little gasp and rushed downstairs. She had all-of-a-sudden remembered the Time Capsule, still tucked away on its ledge in the basement! Ever since then, she has kept it safe in a closet or cupboard, taking it with her each time she moved.
We are pretty spread out at present: Mike & I in Hawaii; Lori & Dave up in Anchorage; Chris & Katie in Bonners; and Kerry in the Seattle area. But somehow, we will do our best to make the Opening of the Time Capsule happen with all of us present. Including spouses. That was specified even way back when the capsule was being created. I think it had something to do with some of the answers on that questionnaire...
Wishing you all a joyous New Year with many exciting discoveries of your own!
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Saturday, December 12, 2009
Remembering Winter Solstice
For your holiday reading pleasure ~
Yule is an ancient fire festival, taking place on December 21st, the longest night of the year. It is a calling for the sun to return to us, to bring back the light and banish darkness, or at least to keep it from consuming us with cold and misery and doubt. And for our family, Yule was the best of the Winter festivals.
A huge bonfire pile would have been slowly built all year long, starting with last year's dried out Christmas tree. Every time a fruit tree was pruned in the spring, the boughs would go onto the bonfire pile. All summer long, barrowloads of scrap wood from whatever building projects were taking place that year would be added. The trimmings and thinnings, the branches blown down in storms, log ends from the woods, or broken pallets and crates - all would be heaved up onto the growing pile in hopes of a bright blaze come Winter.
When the weather turned damp and gray in Autumn, the pile would be covered with an old tarp. Days grew shorter and colder, darker and dreary. The procession of Autumnal holidays helped brighten our spirits and our homes. Pretty soon now, the glorious day would arrive! Snow might bury the bonfire mound in a blanket of icy whiteness. Some years, when the snows were particularly heavy and deep, we'd have to shovel a path from the house, into the field to the waiting pile - and then dig out the pile itself before the ceremony could begin!
As the Winter Solstice approached, invitations were sent out to family and friends. This was always our biggest party of the year!
Guests would arrive at dusk. Everyone brought food for the groaning board, so called because the table would be completely covered with delectables, both savory and sweet. Each guest would also bring something to add to the bonfire. This could be anything from a stick of firewood to a specially woven corn dolly, a gnarly twisted root found on a hike, or a letter to a dearly departed one - each would be added to the pyre.
* * * * *
Bundled up against the icy cold of mid-winter's night, we become mesmerized by the fingers of flame licking their way up the pile. It crackles and pops as fire begins to take hold. Pine needles sizzle and glow. Sparks fly to the starry night sky. We roast ourselves, slowly turning in place to warm first one side, then the other, alternating the heat of the flame with the chill of the northern night. Light and dark. Yin and yang.
We begin to circle around the now-blazing bonfire, tramping a path through the snow, and chanting, "Bring back the Sun, bring back the Sun."
Circle three times... and then break out the fireworks!
These are the ones we had stashed away since last summer, saved especially for Solstice. There is no better time for bright fountains, whizzing rockets, and crackling sparklers than on the longest night of the year, in the middle of a snowy field, each individual crystal of snow reflecting back each spark of light!
Back to the house now. Ablaze with Christmas tree lights and the lights of dozens of candles, the festivities continue indoors. A huge pile of snowboots, thick winter coats, scarves, hats, and mittens fills the entryway. Once you clamber over this barrier, adding your own layers to it, there are tables of all sorts of good foods, mugs of hot and spicy cider, music and laughter and conversation.
Many will eventually wander back outside to the still-blazing bonfire, drawn like moths by the attraction of its flames. The sharp smell of smoke drifts across the fields on this icy northern night, the most special night of our year.
The sun will return... tomorrow.
* * * * *
I wish you all a Blessed Yule, and a Merry Christmas!
Yule is an ancient fire festival, taking place on December 21st, the longest night of the year. It is a calling for the sun to return to us, to bring back the light and banish darkness, or at least to keep it from consuming us with cold and misery and doubt. And for our family, Yule was the best of the Winter festivals.
A huge bonfire pile would have been slowly built all year long, starting with last year's dried out Christmas tree. Every time a fruit tree was pruned in the spring, the boughs would go onto the bonfire pile. All summer long, barrowloads of scrap wood from whatever building projects were taking place that year would be added. The trimmings and thinnings, the branches blown down in storms, log ends from the woods, or broken pallets and crates - all would be heaved up onto the growing pile in hopes of a bright blaze come Winter.
When the weather turned damp and gray in Autumn, the pile would be covered with an old tarp. Days grew shorter and colder, darker and dreary. The procession of Autumnal holidays helped brighten our spirits and our homes. Pretty soon now, the glorious day would arrive! Snow might bury the bonfire mound in a blanket of icy whiteness. Some years, when the snows were particularly heavy and deep, we'd have to shovel a path from the house, into the field to the waiting pile - and then dig out the pile itself before the ceremony could begin!
As the Winter Solstice approached, invitations were sent out to family and friends. This was always our biggest party of the year!
Guests would arrive at dusk. Everyone brought food for the groaning board, so called because the table would be completely covered with delectables, both savory and sweet. Each guest would also bring something to add to the bonfire. This could be anything from a stick of firewood to a specially woven corn dolly, a gnarly twisted root found on a hike, or a letter to a dearly departed one - each would be added to the pyre.
* * * * *
Bundled up against the icy cold of mid-winter's night, we become mesmerized by the fingers of flame licking their way up the pile. It crackles and pops as fire begins to take hold. Pine needles sizzle and glow. Sparks fly to the starry night sky. We roast ourselves, slowly turning in place to warm first one side, then the other, alternating the heat of the flame with the chill of the northern night. Light and dark. Yin and yang.
We begin to circle around the now-blazing bonfire, tramping a path through the snow, and chanting, "Bring back the Sun, bring back the Sun."
Circle three times... and then break out the fireworks!
These are the ones we had stashed away since last summer, saved especially for Solstice. There is no better time for bright fountains, whizzing rockets, and crackling sparklers than on the longest night of the year, in the middle of a snowy field, each individual crystal of snow reflecting back each spark of light!
Back to the house now. Ablaze with Christmas tree lights and the lights of dozens of candles, the festivities continue indoors. A huge pile of snowboots, thick winter coats, scarves, hats, and mittens fills the entryway. Once you clamber over this barrier, adding your own layers to it, there are tables of all sorts of good foods, mugs of hot and spicy cider, music and laughter and conversation.
Many will eventually wander back outside to the still-blazing bonfire, drawn like moths by the attraction of its flames. The sharp smell of smoke drifts across the fields on this icy northern night, the most special night of our year.
The sun will return... tomorrow.
* * * * *
I wish you all a Blessed Yule, and a Merry Christmas!
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