The festive season has arrived and not a moment too soon. Last night, sprigs of holly and cedar garlands hung throughout the house, we hosted our annual Christmas/Solstice/Saturnalia gathering (trying for inclusiveness here). Joined by a band of friends from the city, the mountains and nearby valleys, we spent the evening feasting and making merry. A large pot filled with steaming perry, well spiced and fruits bobbing, served as our nod to a wassail.

Holly sprigs in the kitchen window

The richness of dishes brought by our guests helped line our stomachs for the deluge of spirituous libations. The fir tree was ablaze with brightly colored lights, gifts brought by kind guests placed underneath. A beret was forced upon the head of Good Sport Tim, who played the part of a sailor from Marseilles (sorry, no idea why that happened). The 16 very pregnant ewes received routine visits through the course of the evening–fat and pregnant ewes being what passes as entertainment in the country. Overall, it was a most satisfying gathering of some of our favorite good people.

As we go about our tasks this Sunday, less than two weeks before the wheel turns again, we feel “blessed,” in whatever way you wish to parse the meaning of the word.

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Reading this weekend: Honor: a history by James Bowman and Ancient Iraq by Georges Roux

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