Winter Solstice 2024

May I live this day

Compassionate of heart,

Clear in word,

Gracious in awareness,

Courageous in thought,

Generous in love.

~ John O'Donohue, from "Matins" in To Bless the Space Between Us

And here we are, the shortest day and the longest night of the year. The ancients set up huge standing stones to mark it. Some were part of their funerial practices. And even today people will be visiting those places of ancient astrological importance and give thanks for the return of the light.

I awoke only slightly aware of the length of my "to do" list. There would be time enough for that. I skipped the morning ritual cup of tea and walk around the garden to see if we could walk out and greet the breaking dawn before retuning home to find a prayer for the day and to share the light.

All was quiet in the neighborhood as Z and I warmed ourselves with a brisk walk to the last undeveloped space we call the sister field.* 

We just made the sunrise.

Sunrise! It's not Newgrange** or Drombeg*** but there is the sun is shining on the path.

A frosty sister field to the left. The lot to the right is a "park" and may include a neighborhood garden. No, I have not volunteered more than plants and advice - that I am sure no one will take.

A golden aura means great wisdom and intuition (and good naturedness). Of course, this is just the sunlight filtering through her wild red hair.  
[Zelda IS on a leash here. I just edited it out for the photo.]

And then we headed home where I walked the garden. Not all of the plants had frost crustals crawling across them, but enough did to to make me wander to the flowers still blooming to get one last photo and be grateful for these last moments of their presence and grace. So much is already brown and brittle that it it makes me love these stragglers that much more.

The bur oak has lost most of its leaves. This one was especially colorful.

One of the many wasp nests from this year. I haven't an idea what these lilies might be.

I didn't realize the Indigo Spires would continue blooming this late. The Texas Sage is reliably leafed.

Coppeer Canyon Daisy hiding close to the ground.

Self-seeded Gaillardia. I hve enjoyed these flowers for months....blooming outside of the garden, they knew where they needed to be.

Where would any garden be without the dandelions? They bloom early and late - providing food for the pollinators. I love the way the frost edges the leaves.

The vegetable garden will need attention soon. It is probably the end for the okra and peppers. And I need to figure out what to do about the sedge and fireants.

I'm glad I took a moment yesterday to recover the last few tomatoes that had started to ripen. I'll watch the remaining-still green fruit for a few days (just in case) before taking up the plants. I'll also watch the cabbage and chard and broccoli. They are supposed to be "winter vegetables" and give me a tiny harvest before the inevitable (these days anyway) ice and snow. We shall see.

The broccoli survives. Something is eating the edges.

I saved the best for last. I suspect I will plant this purple cabbage variety every year because it is the loveliest.

....Let us thank the Earth
That offers ground for home
And holds our feet firm
To walk in space open
To infinite galaxies.

Let us salute the silence
And certainty of mountains:
Their sublime stillness,
their dream-filled hearts.

The wonder of a garden
Trusting the first warmth of spring
Until its black infinity of cells
Becomes charged with dream;
Then the silent, slow nurture
Of the seed's self, coaxing it
To trust the act of death.

The humility of the earth
That transfigures all
That has fallen
Of outlived growth...

Selection from In Praise of the Earth 
John O'Donahue in To Bless the Space Between Us



NOTES:

* My sister and I rescued plants from here - anticipating the bulldozers that haven't arrived -- yet.





And we end this shortest day in a favorite park.



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