Winter solstice, 2014


Yesterday we hiked along the water. We found a fallen hemlock and planted it in the mud there, decorated it with stones and fungus, dried oak leaves and ice crystals. Beyond, we came to a flock of chickadees in the trees, and for a moment I was surrounded by the sound of wings as they flew past, investigating. On our way home, we paused to watch otters in the water. They watched back, snorting in…disapproval? Invitation? Curiosity? Further out was a loon, and ducks floating beyond the reach of the forming ice.

This morning we woke to a solstice visitor, one we often hear but rarely see, sitting on the deck railing as the snow fell.


Today we spend outside, looking for tracks, leaving seeds, finding light on this, the darkest day, before returning in to roast vegetables, bake pie, light our candles and enjoy the warmth. It’s good to be in this place, to connect to the land, to one another, to feel both the change and the sameness of life.

Be well, everyone, and blessings to you all. Feet to the soil, faces to the wind, hearts open to the need around us, and hands prepared to work for the good of this world.



  1. This is lovely, Jennifer. Such a relief from the hype and hubbub that inoculates the Christmas season.

    Thoughts and simple rituals around the winter solstice–the promise of Light amid the shortest of days, the darkest of hours–have replaced many of my traditional Holiday practices. It is perhaps ironic that recognizing the first day of winter as the true beginning of the new year warms my heart and nourishes my soul. Maybe irony is the driving force of nature.

    • cosmicdriftwood

      December 22, 2014 at 8:06 pm

      There is certainly that piece, isn’t there? To move through winter knowing that even as the worst of it comes, the light is already changing toward spring. Nature is the great reminder of both impermanence and continuity.

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