After Yule, The Long Winter

 

                After 12^th Night, the Long Winter begins, the stretch, here in the Pacific Northwest, which mixes with pre-spring for months on end. Rain. Mud. Dead leaves. Snowdrops. Foggy, icy mornings. Bean soup and fresh bread. Seed catalogs. Finches and juncos on the feeding ladder outside the living room window.  Hazelnut catkins growing longer every week. Solar gain. Rare glimpses off the moon through clouds. Full rivers.

                In preparation for this time, we have taken down the tree, filling the front room with light. The floors and sheets are all washed. The mantle is clear, except for the candles. The pruning saw and loppers are on the front steps; the crockpot is on the counter, full of local black beans. On this foggy morning, a towhee looks in at me while he tosses seed around for breakfast and the house smells like toast.