Solstice Shelter

   

             The week before Yule (AKA Winter Break) is often a scramble. Juniors are madly rewriting papers and demanding help on the thesi—help that was due the week before, quite often—while the younger students are finishing up projects they stalled a bit on, and admin is trying to hold one more staff meeting. Add three council sessions, one work session before the final meeting of the term, and trying to find time to set up and decorate the tree, and it was a busy week or so. And then the first day of Break was Solstice, without a great deal of prep time.

                Friday night, we finally decorated the tree. It had been in the stand since Tuesday evening, but, because it is a big tree with a crooked base, it took us three times as long as usual to set it up, and we were starving by the time it was braced in the living room, so we left it dark. On Wednesday morning, I draped the lights over the branches while eating toast and perched the angel on the top. The rest had to wait. Friday evening, I rolled out pizza dough to rise and we went to work with the ornaments. It was covered in time for dinner; afterwards, I packed up the box, heaved it into the attic, and cleared out the ladder from the cosy room. Before we went to bed, I started a pot of local black beans for soup.

                Saturday was Solstice. It started with tea and watching the little birds—juncos and finches, mostly, with one towhee and a couple of jays—descend on the ladder feeder outside the living room window.  They were already lined up on the plum tree when I went out with the seed. After breakfast, I prepped our dinner, set up the fire, and found the new candles and old holders. Mark filled the lanterns and washed dishes. We watched the clouds break and flashes of sunlight across the bay tree while we worked. When I went to bring in a couple of clay pots from the greenhouse, I realized that the chairs stored inside were the perfect place to sit and read, so we did.

                After lunch, we went for our traditional walk around the wildlife refuge—clouds were heavy, backed up against the foothills of the coast range. Hail and rain drenched us for about 15 minutes, but the air was warm, so we kept on going. Being outside on the short, cloudy grey days keeps us sane, if damp. After our walk, we changed clothes and headed downtown to the ceremony in remembrance of those who have died on our streets this year—at least sixteen names, just in our town, from being unsheltered.  

We came home, lit the fire, ate our dinner, moved the elderly cat from lap to lap, and dried out our clothes from the day. In our yard, the rabbit burrowed down into his pile of straw, looking for the last bits of apple and the chickens climbed up on their safe perch for the night. Even in the busyness of the world, we are sheltered.