Twelve Days of an Appalachian Christmas VII :: Fireside Games, Divination, and Storytelling

 
Reading in Christmas in the Mountains about games played around the fire on Christmas Eve makes me remember those Winter days when we couldn't go out for recess.  The teacher would play games with us and it was always such fun.  We'd play "Good Morning, Mr. Judge", "Heads Up, Seven Up," and "Four Corners."  There were so many, though I'm not sure I'd remember the rules to all of them.  We'd always clamor for more. 

The games Mr. Davis lists those that are like "nutting," where you make guesses about numbers: Hull Gull, Jack in the Bush.  They guessed using pieces of parched corn, which was also a snack.  This idea is explored in the The Children of Noisy Village, and might be a good way to introduce such a game to children.  "Old Granny Gobble" sounds like it was a clapping and pounding game, which would be well suited to a homeschool environment (you have to remember the ever-lengthening sequence).  Not to be missed was "Snapdragon," where the players try to snatch raisins from a bowl of flaming brandy, a Victorian favorite.

Christmas Eve and St. Thomas' Eve were both good times to try out a little divination.  The most common things to divine were the identity of one's future husband and his age. Going to bed with holly (or in older times, an onion!) under the pillow with these words would aid things:

Good St. Thomas, serve me right,
And send me a true love tonight,
That I may gaze upon his face,
Then, him in my fond arms embrace.

If that didn't work, you could always hang out by the pig pen around midnight.  In an old hog grunted first, you'd marry an old man.  A young shoat, a young man.  There was a fair bit of cheating in that superstition, with girls shutting up the older animals.

Christmas, what with its get-togethers was a wonderful time to tell stories of all moods, reverent and otherwise.  The book tells what might be the quintessential mountain tale of a Winter so cold even words froze up.  People would have to sit by the fire and thaw them out just to hear them!  There's the magical German tale of a poor family who takes in a lone boy and awakens to find him transformed into the Christ-child.  And lastly, Mr. Davis shares the story of "The Lord for Dinner" where a woman turns away numerous needy guests, all her Lord in disguise. It's a traditional lesson in hospitality, though the days of strangers coming to the door (think The Waltons) are long gone.

I really want to travel back in time and celebrate Christmas with these folks, don't you?

Twelve Days of an Appalachian Christmas VI :: Home for Christmas

Here's a vision from Christmases past--our little bungalow in the snow, back when our family was just three people with a Roan on the way.  This Winter may prove to be as cold as that one was.  Brrrr! 

So, home for Christmas and customs in an affluent rural community are up next from Christmas in the Mountains.  Preparations began in Autumn, as I guess they do now.  Nuts falling, good things being put up from the gardens, weather cold enough to allow for butchering.  All very Little House in the Big Woods.  Firewood was chopped and laid ready.  The Christmas fire was believed to have held in is embers the souls of family members who had gone before.  They came in this way to join in the festivities and it was considered bad luck to let it go out.

The meal preparations included many of the favorites of that time, along with things that were plentiful.  Stack cake, hams, chicken and dumplings, black walnut cake, candy, homemade light bread, and the like might be on the menu.  People saved here and there, no matter how few their resources, so that the day would have a special air and special foods.  And there was plenty of cider and that eggnog.

Descriptions and recipes for these items and more, if not in your own files, can be found in The Foxfire Book of Appalachian Cookery and A Foxfire Christmas.  They also include recipes that were served more often, and probably in more homes--leather breeches, cornbread or pone, stewed dried fruits and berries, and plainer foods.   A Foxfire Christmas really captures the want that some mountain people truly struggled under, and their joy at filling their own tables when they grew up.

To be called to "put your feet under the board" was the summons for the meal.  Mr. Davis tells of Mother apologizing for the meal, which I have been witness to many times.  I think it must be a learned (inherited?) skill of mountain women.  My mother has always been able to make a whole meal out of nearly any ingredients, and she always fished for compliments by apologizing for the meager selection on the full to bursting table.. ;-) 

Twelve Days of an Appalachian Christmas V :: A Community Christmas

Oh, it is so cold here!  I think it hasn't gotten out of the twenties since Sunday.  This was our nature table last year and I recreated something similar today.  I really love the little sledders!  Let's move along to our fifth day.

According to Christmas in the Mountains, people seldom celebrated Christmas the same way across the many communities of Southwest Virginia.  There simply wasn't much news that wasn't carried on foot or through the mail.  Jean Ritchie relays something very similar when she tells her sister's story of the Ritchie's first Christmas tree.  Can't you tell I love that album?  I discovered it when I was a midnight librarian.  It changed my perspective in a big way and I fell down a lot of Christmas rabbit holes.

Mr. Davis tells of a Mrs. Miller, aged ninety, and her recollections of Christmas celebrations in Pulaski County, VA.  When I made maps in Wythe County, I joked that all back roads led to Pulaski.  Anyway, her story comes from the 1850's and for them, Christmas began at 3:00 in the morning!  The residents would meet at the host's home for eggnog spiked with peach or apple brandy.

At six o'clock, breakfast was served and folks went home to tend to the chores.  Back again, they'd continue their celebrations with a shooting match and a big Christmas dinner.  A religious service in the afternoon completed the observance.

It sounds like a nice day, truly, and there are times when I long to see the Appalachia that is depicted in places like the Blue Ridge Parkway or The Great Smokies.  They were a hardy lot, for sure, and the spirit of community was probably very strong.  I get a taste of that at events like the Maple Syrup Festival, the Ramp Festival, and the Grayson Highlands Fall Festival.  Those are put on by a couple of volunteer fire departments and people really, really turn out for them.  It lifts the spirits to see young folks working alongside the older people.  I hope it goes on for a long, long time.

Twelve Days of an Appalachian Christmas IV :: Christmas Bells, Serenading and Little People

Here was our own littlest person in 2014.  Forgive me the use of these old photos.  It is fun to remember and I don't do it often enough.

I'm sharing information from two books, Christmas in the Mountains and A Foxfire Christmas, in the event that this is your first reading from this series.  I'm trying to mesh the chapters and topics as best I can. Thanks for reading along!

It is the custom in many places to ring bells to mark Christmas coming in.  Clay Boy's grandfather does it in The Homecoming: A Christmas Story and the little girl and her mother ring in the day in The Year of the Perfect Christmas Tree.  In Hubert Davis's book, he tells of the custom of ringing the bells nine times with a pause and then another three rings.  This was to signify the death of the devil and the birth of Christ.  Then the bells were rung for as long as an hour.  The Devil's Knell, as it was called, originiated in Yorkshire, England, and the devil was believed to have sickened and died at midnight.  There was a similar tradition for the New Year.

Serenading is a tradition dear to my heart, and the easiest one to bring into one's family culture today.  Mike and I first did it when we were newly married, walking my parents' road to see some friends and give them songs.  We were inspired by Jean Ritchie's account in Singing Family of the Cumberlands.  You can hear a little bit of it here.  I e-mailed her that year and got a sweet reply! The kind described in her book involved singing very loudly, so that the folks of the house invite you in for some kind of treat.  We certainly got that treatment when we serenaded our neighbors here in town.  I'd really like to do it this year with the children, now that Willow can read along.

The last item for today involves the little folks that were very much a part of life in the British Isles, specifically the town of Glastonbury.  There are many legends surrounding the origin of the Glastonbury Thorn, but the one shared in Christmas in the Mountains sounds like it could be a Sparkle Story.  An old pious man takes a fall in the forest and witnesses little folks at work on Christmas Eve.  Searching for just the right way to honor the Christ Child, he helps them find a twig and it bursts into bloom just as Christmas morning dawns.

More tomorrow.  Goodbye!

Twelve Days of an Appalchian Christmas III :: Santa, Gifts, and Spirits

Oh, that little face!  This is a photo of Roan from four years ago.  I'm revisiting some old pictures for this series.  He has always loved St. Nicholas.  He's got his own beard and red sack this year.

The days are getting shorter,
An' the nights are stretchin' out;
An' the kids are all talkin'
Of Old Santa hearabouts.

~Huber J. Davis, as it appeared in the Herald Courier


Fun things, after some seriousness yesterday!

The mountain Christmas didn't often have a whole pile of presents under and around the tree.  Even our own celebration is not that way, but we are happy, no less.  Many people, if they got anything, got it in their socks from "Old Santy"--an apple, an orange, a simple doll or homemade toy.  There were prank gifts, to be sure, like old pig snouts(!) or sweet potatoes in mama's stocking.  The Foxfire book tells many such stories, along with those from adults who had nothing at all for Christmas, save the usual gravy and biscuits.  Both books (the other being Christmas in the Mountains) mention the occasional family who found their gifts at the table, on their plates.  This was also done in the Little House series numerous times.

There was the game of "Christmas Gift"  where folks hurried to be the first one to say it when they were visiting.  Some expected a gift in return for being first, others did not and it was just a greeting.  This was an extension of going "a-Thomasing" back in England.  It wasn't exactly begging, but it was certainly a way to give help to folks who might need it.  An old friend of mine wrote of his mountain Christmas experience, and talks of churches giving gifts on Christmas Eve, in a similar fashion.  I have received many brown "pokes" of goodies at the last service before the big day.

The Appalachian people enjoyed their share of rowdy traditions, like wassailing the apple trees in the orchards.  You can read more about it in this post from last year.  We certainly like doing it, with sweet cider, as a reminder that we really do count of the fruit of the earth to sustain us.  Another activity, which we still hear is shooting off fireworks or guns on Christmas day.  It was meant to drive off evil spirits, but I'd say it was also pretty fun.  Other cultures do similar things, like this clip from Rick Steves.

I can just hear my great-grandmother Virgie (1907-2010) asking me "What did ole Santy bring you in your sock?"

Twelve Days of an Appalachian Christmas II :: Christmas Customs Mishmash

The second chapter in Christmas in the Mountains concerns the history of Christmas traditions.  It includes the idea of celebrating Christmas later, which is well summed up in this article about Old Christmas.  The author of Christmas in the Mountains felt that the Southwest Virginia folks lost their unique old traditions when things became more connected through railroads, roads and television.  I do wish I could have asked my great-grandmother about her Christmas experiences, since her life was so long.

I find myself struggling to sort out what to say about the origins of our winter festivals and how we have melded them over the centuries.  Syncretism has been hard at work, and it becomes difficult to untangle ourselves in the mix of ancient traditions and those that are rather new.  There's this little History Channel piece on Christmas, which we enjoy watching, though we are not historians.  I'll admit that I like the long history of winter celebrations (unsavory customs aside), and feel a connection to people from long ago who celebrated the lengthening of days and return of the light.   

I really enjoy contemplating the mystery of this season as each year passes.  I think it is something I'll never finish unraveling.  What are your thoughts?  I promise more fun tomorrow. :-)

Twelve Days of an Appalachian Christmas I :: Beginnings

I'm hoping, good Lord willin' and the creek don't rise, to spend the next days writing a little about the history and customs of Christmas celebrations in Appalachia.  Our own celebrations have been a little disjointed, with moments of pure joy and others of desperation, as the children have taken turns being sick.  It had been six months, so I guess we were very blessed!  Let's just hope Mama doesn't take a turn!  Enough of that, let's begin with some Christmas preparations in these dear mountains.

I'm referring to two books for this series: A Foxfire Christmas: Appalachian Memories and Traditions and Christmas in the Mountains: Southwest Virginia Christmas Customs and Their Origins.

Christmas as it was known here was held back, if that is the right way to say it.  Outside influences and commercialism were slower in taking hold, and many customs dated back hundreds of years.  If you've watched "A Tudor Monastery Farm Christmas" or read Christmas Folk, the customs will seem familiar. They have meshed well with our Waldorf perspective, to be certain, which can seem about as far from Appalachia as one could get.  In reality, it's a perfect match.

The Foxfire book begins with Christmas decorations.  They were found objects, both natural and otherwise, that were collected and reinvented to make things pretty.  Like many with a need and little pocket money, people made what they required, using saved bits of foil or everyday items like popped corn.  They rolled beeswax candles and made others using sand molds.  Strips of paper from catalogs trimmed the trees, along with paper dolls and bits of yarn.  Jean Ritchie offers a wonderful account of her family's first tree here.  We have many folks around here who are wreath makers, and it could be that your tree  or wreath came from our mountains.

The first non-native people to really settle in our Southwest Virginia were immigrants from Scotland, Ireland, the Netherlands, and Germany.  It's fairly easy to find more information on this topic (with a wide range of opinions!), so I won't spend a lot of time on it.  My mother's family, who has been in this area for a good many generations, hailed from the British Isles.

The view of the early Appalachian settler has been one of many stereotypes, but suffice it to say that these people were a hardy lot.  The mountains were considered a sort of hunting grounds before non-native people settled here.  Our hills (called New Appalachia) were steep, the soil was often poor or thin, and the weather varied tremendously, being the last vestiges of glaciation.  They dug in their heels, worked hard, and required few material possessions.  I think that kind of spirit is still at work here.  Each place has its own social ills, and we have our fair share, but we also have plenty of love of place, resourcefulness, and rugged sense of self that make this land a great place to live.
 

Noel

Grim was the world and grey last night:
The moon and stars were fled,
The hall was dark without song or light,
The fires were fallen dead.
The wind in the trees was like to the sea,
And over the mountains’ teeth
It whistled bitter-cold and free,
As a sword leapt from its sheath.

The lord of snows upreared his head;
His mantle long and pale
Upon the bitter blast was spread
And hung o’er hill and dale. 
The world was blind, the boughs were bent,
All ways and paths were wild:
Then the veil of cloud apart was rent,
And here was born a Child.

The ancient dome of heaven sheer
Was pricked with distant light;
A star came shining white and clear
Alone above the night.
In the dale of dark in that hour of birth
One voice on a sudden sang:
Then all the bells in Heaven and Earth
Together at midnight rang.

Mary sang in this world below:
They heard her song arise
O’er mist and over mountain snow
To the walls of Paradise,
And the tongue of many bells was stirred
in Heaven’s towers to ring
When the voice of mortal maid was heard,
That was mother of Heaven’s King.

Glad is the world and fair this night
With stars about its head,
And the hall is filled with laughter and light,
And fires are burning red.
The bells of Paradise now ring
With bells of Christendom,
And Gloria, Gloria we will sing
That God on earth is come.


~J. R. R. Tolkien

Crafting On :: Tying Up Loose Ends

Just in the nick of time, shepherds came to visit the Holy Family.  I made the bodies, heads, and hats last year, but ran out of steam.  I squirreled them away, thinking I could add to Roan's Nativity each year.  It was a great plan!  They are a happy pair.  I used the instructions from The Nature Corner.  We set them out a bit ahead of schedule, since we are expecting company in a couple days.  Roan didn't mind a bit.

Here's the next leaf-edged scarf.  It went beautifully and I definitely have an almost no-brainer formula worked out for making another one for myself.  Some time.  There is still one thing left to make, but I've got time. 

And now, well, time to work on supper.  Happy Christmas Eve Eve Eve Eve Eve!  (The children love to say it that way.)

For more crafting, visit Frontier Dreams.

Christmas Memories and Christmas Clicks

We sent out a few cards, our first, and I hope will have a few more in the mail tomorrow.  Willow made this one for our neighbors who just had these two trees (long dead) cut from in front of their home.  It's a memory.  Roan, bless his heart, decorated the envelope with the trees mid-destruction!  He loves a good tree removal, even as his sweet spirit is sad to see it go.  

I picked up a bag of black walnuts yesterday.  The natural world still has a lot to offer, even as it appears to sleep.  Mountain folks have always been good at finding ways to make their living from these hills and fields.  Some friends of ours are selling walnut cakes this year, so we were happy to spend five minutes helping.  Now that we know their plans, we'll be sure to hold out the one hundred gallons (yes, really) that fall right next door.  It warms my heart to hear of people doing traditional things like this, even if I don't enjoy black walnuts. 

I have not forgotten my plans to share Appalachian Christmas customs here.  The problem with sharing holiday ideas, I think, is that they are often ill-timed.  Too early and we are not interested, too late and we feel too rushed.  So, I thought I would share them over the Twelve Days, since most old festivities were centered on that time, anyway.  The book I love most has twelve chapters, so this is just right, I think.  I feel Christmas most strongly, most deeply, and most quietly after the bulk of our population has cast it aside and made their gift returns.

I thought I'd share a few Christmas links today, just little things that we are enjoying listening to and watching.  Forgive me--there is very little schmaltz (or Hallmark) to my Christmas preferences.

A Scottish Christmas :: A great album, all around.  We love Al Petteway.
A Winter's Solstice from Windham Hill:: Mike and I picked up this record for our first Solstice after we married.  I always love listening to it.
December from John Winston:: Another great album, more reflective.  I really love good instrumentals, it seems. ;-)
Traditional Christmas Carols from Pete Seeger :: I really love "Masters in this Hall," and the image of a world turned on its ear.
Wassail! Wassail!  Early American Christmas Music by the Christmas Revels :: I have loved this album since I found it in college.  It includes Jean Ritchie reading Christmas stories from her book The Singing Family of the Cumberlands.
A Child's Christmas in Wales :: A nice recollection of Christmas memories.  Not too far off from the original text, as far as I can tell.  The children have really loved it.  Oh, if we could sing like those dear folks.  We can, but can we be so bold?  We've done various Wassailing efforts over the years.  It makes me want to have caroling become a more firm tradition.
A Christmas Memory :: I read this many times for an academic bowl team I was on.  I still feel the mood.  It was neat to see the story set to life.  I was thinking of it as I collected the walnuts, frozen to the ground.

And with that, I wish you all a wonderful third Sunday of Advent!  It's time for the beasts to gather in anticipation!

Nature School :: The Sledding Place

Keeping up with our "place" names, there's The Sledding Place.  We picnicked here in the Summer and came to see the leaves in Autumn, but it is forever known as The Sledding Place. 

Properly, it is the Lewis Fork Trailhead in the Fairwood Valley, the former site of an old logging operation.  It is land that was "taken" by the Forest Service to create the National Recreation Area.  Takings are complicated things, but I am (secretly) glad they did.  It is a beautiful place.

We went looking for the snow we tried to see earlier in the week.  With days below freezing, it was still there.  It's eighteen right now!  We're expecting a warmer stretch, though, so we had to make tracks.  Speaking of tracks, there were deer and bear tracks, which the children really enjoyed following. 

Competing with snowy hillsides, the creek was lots of fun and peril, too.  Everything was slippery, except the snow, and I think nearly all of us broke through small frozen puddles before it was over.

I got some photos before the children got to it and had fun breaking up some of the ice.  I told them to save most of it for other visitors to see.  I think we were only the second guests to the forest in this snow and the other tracks were older.

I think we could have all looked for hours, but I dragged us back for some more sledding before the sun sank too low.

That holly bush is our landmark.  We climb to it and then set off.  There's only one rock sticking up, so it can be a pretty good slide to the bottom.  Willow and I road down it together last year--it felt like a roller coaster ride!

Thoroughly soaked and a little frozen, we returned home to our mostly snow-free street.  There were some men taking down a couple old, dead trees (we loved those trees) and I think we looked a little funny getting out sleds and wet coats.  I showed one of the men the photos and I think he was pleased.  Good old fashioned fun!

Lucia Morning

Oh, it was a cold start yesterday, but everything was joyful for our special morning. 

After having made that pretty crown bread and lighting the candles, I had to jump back in bed and pretend to be asleep.  

What a dear little star boy Roan was, holding his own candle in the dark, cold morning.  Laurel held up the end with Virginia dressed as a tiny Lucia.  

We had our bread and orange juice in the early light with frosty storm windows.  The story from Christmas Roses fit the morning so well.  The Lucia chapter talks of water turning to wine and animals talking at midnight, along with people waking to work very hard to set the mood for the year.  These are common beliefs for Christmas, I think, and they were held by the Appalachian folk of a hundred years ago. 

We took our procession down the street to my mother's office, adding in the Advent wreath with smaller candles.  I had seen it like this in photos, and it worked well!  Everyone was certainly in awe of Willow's special adornment!  We gave my parents hot tea in a thermos and returned home to go on with our day.  There are times that I feel a little sad, being the only adult here most of the time, but the children were so happy and proud to be Lucia and her attendants.  Their joy is contagious.

Trees Instead

We moved Nature School to Tuesday, in hopes of enjoying the snow in the High Country.  There were flurries and wind in the forecast, but they turned into an all-out wind and snow storm.  As we drove along, the road got whiter and whiter, until I thought it best to turn back.  We spotted a sign for Christmas trees for $5 on the way.  See? I told you there was no tree shortage here.  So, we got a couple trees.

These trees were cut, and we like to cut our own, but the price was very, very right. We just couldn't leave them there. The farm they came from also has big truckloads of surplus pumpkins in the Autumn, five for a dollar, honor system. You know I take full advantage of that. What we don't grow comes from the back of that truck.  So, trees in the car, car being buffeted by the wind, children excited, home over icing roads, and into the warm house.  

Back at home, the wind was gusting so strongly that it nearly blew away the six foot tree we brought home!  I got it mostly fitted to the stand and then brought it in, but not until it blew over a couple more times.  We let the big tree relax and got things all set for the children's tree in their room.  Last year, we happened upon a tiny tree for them, and it was perfect as we had two stands.  Everyone was very pleased.  We watched it snow sideways while we worked.  I was loving the terrible weather, the wind whistling through every crack and the snow being driven into the grass.

We decorated the big tree after supper and a good tidying.  I feel like I am swimming in a murky sea of hats and mittens and overalls lately.  With everything set right, we got the ornaments on.  Our tree looks a little wild this year, but I like it like that.  It sure came in on a wild day.  I feel like my Christmas is made already.

Crafting On :: Flurry of Activity

I'm a day late, but maybe I am just only about five hours late? I'm up early, Lucia crown dough in the oven proofing, wrapped in a blanket and tying up loose ends.  It is 14° F (-10° C) outside and the wind has howled and whistled all night. 

Look!  I made another night shirt.  This is made out of an XXL men's pajama shirt.  It had no back, as I'd used it for a mob cap last year, so I cobbled it together out of the pants legs.  You can't tell a bit.  The sleeves were narrowed and shortened and I moved the pocket over.  Presto!  Night shirt/robe!

Speaking of things cobbled together, I made a beard, too, for a certain fellow to be Santa Claus.  This is made out of the scraps from tailoring a wool sherpa coat a few years ago.  I couldn't bear to throw them away and that was a good thing.  This beard actually works!  Roan tried many paper beards, so he is very happy now.  I also made him a red corduroy sack to carry to gifts in.

Things that are not cobbled together.  The Paris Shawlette is done, done, done! 

Willow and I made some paper star ornaments to give as gifts.  There are others.  I couldn't find them at the time.  Haha!  I'm a little tired of the mess of all this creating.  More than a little tired.  Oh, well.  Willow made herself a Christmas apron (complete with gathers!), too, but my photos weren't so great.

I've started a Hooded Scarf for myself.  Willow wants to own it part-time (that's our joke here), so I may let her.  I'm not much of a fan of knitting five feet of something.  Still, I have wanted one for a long time and this one seems like it will be nice, dense fabric.  It will be worth the work!

I made Willow a new Lucia gown using a pattern I've made before.  I think it will fit right now and not much past--she is so tall!  It is pretty, though, and I will gladly make another next year.

Roan completed his transformation into Star Boy with the hat and wand.  I used the pattern described in Lucia Morning in Sweden, which is very simple.  No tailoring at all, just subtle tweaks to get the neck big enough.  I'll make the sleeves narrower next time.  He made his hat, gluing pieces of regular paper together, and I provided the stars that were used in our Advent spiral a few years ago.

It would not do to leave out Laurel, even though her gown is not new.  I made it years ago now, when Willow was Laurel's age.  Laurel's crown is missing right now, but it will turn up before breakfast.  Right?

Well, the dough is done resting and it's time to get to work on that.  Here's the recipe we're using.

For more crafting, visit Frontier Dreams.

Dark and Cold

I've got a candle near the thermostat, keeping it from dipping quite so quickly.  It's holding at sixty-seven.  It is cold and windy this morning, much like our January weather.  I keep wanting to sing, "On the winds of January, down flits the snow," but that's not right.  Oh, well.  I do love cold and windy weather where opening the shades and curtains is not advisable.  This pyramid was a yard sale find, not exactly German, but it is happy to go along with Roan's children's pyramid.  I couldn't leave it out in the cold. 

I want to immerse myself in all kinds of lights lately, twinkly Christmas lights and candles and pyramids and schwiboggens (have you SEEN schwiboggens?).  I could stare for hours at photos of schwiboggens.  Mike and I went to a Christmas market on Twelfth Night (in Italy--befana everywhere!) before we were married.  I didn't do much looking.  I should have! 

I have the urge to knit the fastest hooded scarf out there, though I am trying to stay the course with all my neck things (shawls?  scarves?).  There's just one leaf-edged scarf left, I think, and maybe a hat.  I've finished and blocked the Paris Shawlette, and I'm just waiting for the darkness to subside to get a photo.  When the sun shines here in Winter, it is a wonderful, warming thing.

I'm in love with looking out over the snow towards the playhouse.  My mother gave us an old wreath with some lights on it.  Roan and I hung it on the woodpile and plugged it in.  Success!  And the twinkles inside!  It's too bad it's so cold out there.  We've got plans involving a space heater and some steaming stew for the Solstice.  We'll have some warmer days before then to get it all ready. 

Have I mentioned that our computer now lives on our enclosed back porch?  It's a room that has a half wall and the rest storm windows.  We've made it into a sort of library with an arm chair and pumpkins piled around.  It is cold, though.  Time to get inside and cast on!

December

 This is the month when hills turn white,
When scattered barns hold candle light,
At four in the afternoon!

When fields lie sown with gleaming grain,
When trees stand washed in silver rain,
In the light of the Long Night moon.

This is the month when apple boughs
Crook elbows north and the orchard mouse
Sleeps tail wrapped, small and warm.

When chimneys smoke on back road places,
And children wait with dreamy faces,
The eve when the Child was born.

~Enki Grade Two Poetry :: author unknown

Each month, Willow is putting a poem in a little practice book.  They're seasonal poems, and so far, we have used ones that are titled for the months.  October was a piper, November was a spinner. . . I like that.  It feels tidy to me, but it's also fun to see what joys each of the months bring.  This is her poem for December and it has been wonderful to see snow while she is working on it.  I guess South of here, they got a even more snow.  This was the perfect kind, sticking to every twig and leaf, just right for snowballs.  There is more in the forecast for Tuesday and I am looking forward to it.

Nature School :: Roads Go Ever On

Roads go ever ever on,
Over rock and under tree,
By caves where never sun has shone,
By streams that never find the sea;
Over snow by winter sown,
And through the merry flowers of June,
Over grass and over stone,
And under mountains in the moon.

The Road goes ever on and on
Down from the door where it began.
Now far ahead the Road has gone,
And I must follow, if I can,
Pursuing it with eager feet,
Until it joins some larger way,
Where many paths and errands meet.

Still 'round the corner there may wait
A new road or secret gate;
And though I oft have passed them by,
A day will come at last when I
Shall take the hidden paths that run
West of the Moon, East of the Sun.

~The Hobbit :: J.R.R. Tolkien

The children and I took a little walk for our nature school yesterday.  We hiked the CCC Trail at Hungry Mother State Park, which is just over the hill from us.  It's just a little connector trail, but I like it.  We walked as far as we wanted and then turned to go back.  The trail crosses the same little stream several times, so there were several bridges.  We kept going just a bit farther, to see what might be around the next turn.  I like walks like that.  It was just what we needed to brighten our spirits.

I guess now is the time of year to call back to older times, to times that may have never happened, but live in our imaginations.  I can still hear my father read this poem to me (what is here is not its entirety).  I guess he must have really treasured those books to read them so diligently.  Having seen the older movies in my college years, I can't say that I cared for them.  The mood of the actual writing is different, for sure.  Movies are always like that, aren't they?  Like we need some shocking thrill to get us going on the story.  I prefer the pictures I have made in my mind.

We are expecting snow today through Sunday and I am, of course, very excited.  It seemed all the snow was going South, but we were smiled upon, after all.  I think a bonus nature school is in order, good Lord willin' and the creek don't rise.  Willow will have to squeeze her toes into her old snow boots one last time.

Pudding in the Playhouse

As the wind picked up on Monday afternoon, so did my spirits.  Watching the trees sway, we mixed up a Christmas pudding while Laurel napped.  Willow chopped the nuts, I cut up apricots and soaked raisins, and Roan made the bread crumbs and stirred it all together.  I'll admit that I was worried it wouldn't turn out, but it did!

We had a little party in the playhouse to celebrate.  The children have helped me to put up lights this year, as I have been trying to really let them take hold of household work.  It takes longer and is a little messier, like the pudding efforts, but they feel really involved in the experience.  They trimmed the tree with sprigs of holly and Roan decorated the pudding.  You can see that he really likes candied orange peel.

We used Susan Branch's recipe from Christmas from the Heart of the Home, leaving out the dates and apple, since we didn't have them.  Roan buttered a bowl and some foil, and we set that in a soup pot with water for about three hours.  I made half of the hard sauce for myself, which was plenty, and left out the egg yolk (seeing as how you can't halve that).  I couldn't find the recipe online, so I took a picture for you all, if you want to give it a try.  It wasn't too sweet or spicy, though it is a rich dessert.  It was just right!