The December Solstice is one of my favorite holidays because while the sun is making its return, winter is still around to ground us in its spare, bare-branches philosophy. To remind us of sacred silence, glittering stars and spiritual hibernation. I complain every year about the possibility of pipes freezing in my house and the conviction that I’ll be wearing an overstuffed parka forever, but deep down, I appreciate this time-out of becalming and becoming, of nurturing the soul's fallow field. But who knows what our future winters will bring given recent unseasonal tornadoes, catastrophic floods, and wild temperature swings? With our leaders more concerned with personal power than alternative sources of power, the planet desperately needs champions. That’s why I’ve taken the advice of essayist Margaret Renkl and started donating monthly to the Southern Environmental Law Center, and why I’m trying to pause during my walks without audio books or music just to sit and see. I’ve always been impatient to get the walk over, to log my steps, to get home and take a shower, but looking closely seems like one of the greatest acts of love possible right now. To bear witness..to a great blue heron at parade rest, the slow roll through the marsh of an incoming tide, a sky full of birds going about their business and singing as they go.

 

There’s no chance of snow or even a chill where I’m celebrating Christmas, but I’d still like to have Eric Ripert’s  Potato-Leek Soup on the menu. It was featured on the newsletter from Dinner: A Love Story recently, and it looks souper easy and yet completely comforting. Maybe the perfect prelude to the feasting on the 25th that has its roots in the pagan festival of Saturnalia, or for a simple supper on New Year’s Eve with a glass of Champagne.

I’ve recommended books by polymath Robert Macfarlane before, especially The Old Ways, but he’s a man of many talents. During lockdown in the UK, he collaborated with musician/actor Johnny Flynn on an album called Lost in the Cedar Wood which is loosely based on the Gilgamesh epic. The pandemic was a time when we were all wandering and lost like Gilgamesh, so I can understand the inspiration. I got hooked on the words and music when I saw the beautiful little video for one of the songs called “Ten Degrees of Strange.” Give it a listen--you might be reeled in, too.

I bought Timothy Snyder’s On Tyranny: Twenty Lessons from the Twentieth Century during the last administration and thought it was pretty remarkable. Now there’s a graphic version that I’m giving to my 18-year-old granddaughter for Christmas. I put my hope in her generation. It makes the lessons even more impactful, and I only wish it could be used in schools. Given the current climate, though, it would undoubtedly be banned. Books are dangerous, thank god! 

If you’re on Twitter, I hope you’re following writer and art historian @AnneLouiseAvery and her tales of an Old Fox and his community of friends—Wolf (who struggles with emotional ups and downs), young Pine Marten and his grandmother Babcia (who were taken in by the Old Fox during a low time), the Young Doctor who is worn out keeping his patients afloat during their era's own Great Sickness and so many more. The humans and animals all coexist in a post-World War One village in England that is struggling with illness and quarantine, and they despair and persevere and lift each other up. The stories are an antidote and an amazement during this period of vitriol and violence. I’ve been reading Avery’s tales on Twitter since the beginning of the pandemic, and they are one of the main things that got me through those dark times. In fact, I feel kind of smug that NPR has finally caught up with her. If you’re not on Twitter, Anne-Louise Avery is the best reason I can think of to sign on. PS: She's also the author of a charming retelling of the medieval story of Reynard the Fox.