Tag Archives: Winter Solstice

An Evening of Conviviality and Community

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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

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

The Eve of Winter

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Fall is shuddering to a close. A season marking the division between summer and winter, its job is complete. In another short six days, marked by the solstice, is the onset of winter. The date when the wheel begins turning again, the days lengthen and eventually winter, too, is banished.

Living on a farm makes present the folklore, beliefs and cycles of our ancestors. The work is hard and productive yet follows annual cycles as certain as the length of the days. The landscape is now quiescent, regenerating, conserving its resources for the spring. To ensure the successful harvest in the spring our ancestors would troop to the orchards and engage in fertility rites on the winter solstice, a rite in the fallow season to encourage a future harvest. These days we place our faith in science and progress, smug in our assurance that we possess the answers.

For them, knowing that the sun was returning would have given hope as they faced the long months of winter. The seeds dormant and the eternal hope of the agrarian for a better harvest next summer than the last. For us with our 24/7 lives, global supply chains and too full grocery stores the idea that we have any need for or connection with the length of sunlight on the land strikes us as hopelessly parochial.

But under that modern gloss the wheel continues to turn. All still depends on the sun, the length of the days, the warmth of the soil and the rain that falls.

Which is probably why the ancients felt the need to celebrate during these dark months. It was a way to reaffirm their presence, vitality and willingness to persevere.

Last night we hosted our annual Christmas/solstice party. Being moderns somewhat removed from the natural calendar our ritual observations are less precise and urgent. No fear that the sun will not resume its daily path for us. So our party fell on a mid-December night when convenient for friends to gather.

Friends from the valley, the mountains and the city filled the house. The tables loaded with food and holiday beverages. A few non precise toasts, good conversation, our annual nod to encouraging the cycle to continue. Greenery brought into the house, a forgotten nod to our pagan roots, symbolizing an acknowledged desire for warmer days.

The last guests departed close to midnight. To my knowledge the orchard was left unmolested, leaving the trees to complete the cycle on their own.