The Daily: 18 December 2023

I am almost caught up with all the things that need doing. I have to send out one box, but since my family does the full Twelve Days, it doesn’t need to get there immediately. Which is good because the main thing that I need to ship in that box is not here yet. I’m also afraid that part of the family will not be all that festive on the 25th anyway. My sister flew out to see the pregnant belly of our youngest sister and came back feeling bad. She tested positive for COVID on Tuesday. This is her fourth or so round, though really she’s been sick more or less continuously since she got it the first time back in October of 2021. She probably won’t need to be isolated, but she also probably won’t be feeling up to much by next Monday. A Twelfth Night celebration might do her good.

I also still have a pile of mending to tackle. I did some hot glue fixing yesterday, mostly to put holiday decorations back together. I’m not the best at packing things away, and there is always something that has lost its sparkle and coherence when I pull it back out again. But that’s done. There is still the sewing to do though. I like mending and altering things. It’s one thing I do well. But I never seem to make time for it until the pile starts overflowing the basket where I stash it. I’m up to several pairs of pants, two sweaters and the cover on my meditation pillow. Nothing needs major work; it’s largely worn seams. But I suspect I will be working through this pile for the rest of the week — or tomorrow, all day long, if the storm that is moving in becomes more snowy than the forecasted several inches of rain. It’s only 36°F today. If it starts falling tonight, it will be snow. And it won’t be inches, it’ll be feet.

Yesterday was such a lovely day that I finally did a bit of outdoor decorating. I’m not doing anything so elaborate as making wreaths or garland nor can I afford to buy them this year (the flood was expensive…), but I did put some greens in the porch pots and some festive stuff on the potting shelf. I needed to cut up a downed cedar branch anyway, so I did that and then added some stuff from the jungle across the street and some store-bought holly from Agway.

It was so warm that I also managed to get the ice off the front porch steps. Likely, this will just be replaced in tonight’s storm, but it won’t be three inches thick. I have a rather idiotic sample of delivery drivers who will use that entrance despite the fact that there is no light, the gate is snowed shut, and there is ice on the lower stairway (which I left…) Whenever something shows up, they climb the treacherous lower steps — which are crooked slabs of granite that are dangerous even without ice — and toss the package over the gate. So I have to inch my way down the icy upper steps, fish the box out of the snow, and carry it back up the glacier. It’s not a glacier anymore. For now… But then, there’s only one more thing that ought to be delivered, and maybe it will come in the mail. My mailman has been delivering to this house for decades; he knows to use the lighted entrance without wonky steps and ice and snow. (It’s also where the post box is located, so he has clues…)

So aside from the pile of mending, my house is properly festive now. I have things that have accumulated over the decades. Probably more St Nicks and other versions of the old man of winter than is necessary, but this is one male archetype that I can relate to, so… I have some that stay out all year. I think of the older versions of Santa Claus as the winter aspect of the Green Man. So there are those and a few snowmen — I am a winter baby after all. But most of my decorating is just color and scent.

This time of year, I like the sharp scents of cinnamon and balsam fir. I add orange and myrrh to my incense mix that usually includes sage, sandalwood and nag champa. And then there is the cooking. I bake a boatload of cookies, mostly varieties of gingerbread and lemon tea biscuits. This year the cookie baking is on hold until next weekend because I just haven’t made time for that yet. I did bake a loaf of rather buttery bread today though. And I’m making veg stock with a bit of apple cider. So the house smells like Yule.

As to color, I liberally use candles, table runners and bed linens, pillow covers and window valances, all to change the tone each season. I usually let one season blend into the next one with colors becoming progressively richer and darker as the year goes on. By Yule, there is a preponderance of red. I don’t usually pay much mind to the correspondences made up by Victorians, but I think they got this one right. Red is the color of the Mother. It is bright berries in the snow and the sudden sunrise of December. It is blood and flame and hot coals in the hearth. It is vibrant in the midst of the quiescence of winter. My house is ruddy at Yuletide.

But come Epiphany there will be the one full seasonal break of my year round. There is a bit of the wintry white in the Yule things, but the change from Yule to Candlemas is usually the most drastic of the year. All the warm color will be put away and cool whites, silvers and blues will come out. By Twelfth Night I am usually ready for that full change of palette. The season of the Old Mother is over. It is time to look toward the Maiden. However, Old Nick, Old Man Winter, will continue to rule over the second half of winter, the time of deepest cold and lingering darkness. It is a long time before he sheds his winter cloak and becomes the Green Man once more.

I should say that I really don’t believe in any of this. Or not as I write it. I don’t think of archetypes in human form. There is no Green Man nor a Maid, Mother or Crone. I just don’t have words to describe the ideas behind those labels. English is such an anthropocentric language… I can’t even talk about beings that lack gender without turning them into things. Red and Fir Trees and Snow and Darkness, those words are much closer to how I view the numinous. Not ideals, but actual physical beings fully saturated with themselves. Yule is a Red time. It has a particular color, texture and scent that all add up to what I think of as night and motherhood and bodily comfort — Red. It is very hard to put into words. My writerly solace is that I haven’t yet seen anyone else master that trick either. It may not be possible in my language… I’m pretty sure that it works much better in languages such as Tewa and Navajo.

In any case, my house feels like Yule now. The nights are long and the days are cold, but inside all is comforting and bright. It is the embrace of the Mother and the laughter of the Old Man of Winter and a belly full of nourishing bread and stew. And if this week’s storm turns nasty… there will be napping.

Cheers!

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©Elizabeth Anker 2023