It’s a little late, but here’s a recap of December in photo form. We really had so much joy being able to spend it with family again after a very sad and lonely 2020 Christmas. We didn’t do anything fancy, just ate good food, snuggled, played games, read, enjoyed the snow, and spent really good quality time together. It was everything that we needed.
I happened to stumble across this video today- a peek into the studio of Kathryn Davey, a natural dye textile designer from Ireland. I just find process videos mesmerizing. Some day, I would like to learn how to dye textiles myself, but until then, I could watch this process all day long.
Perhaps I'll end up taking a course, but I notice Kathryn has some resources for natural dying if you are interested in this process as well.
And while I won’t be able to invest in her beautifully hand dyed knit socks, I will ogle at them from a far and perhaps also convince myself to learn how to knit…
From Tidings
by Richard Jackson
1. The Annunciation
Like a sentence you discover and read after too
many
years, after you think the world's heart has turned
to dust, the air shriveling from your lungs, though
you cannot understand some of the words
for they seem like stars with no owners,
something like the ache of flowers for their seeds,
and you begin to realize it is a sentence
that celebrates what you could only imagine
like the canticles of mountain streams,
despite the black hearts perched, years later, on
branches,
despite the moon thinning with hunger
then bloating like a starving child,
despite the tracer rounds streaming
like dandelion seeds the Child will blow across His
room,
this sentence with its riverbed of stars,
this sentence that carries you too
the way a leaf is pulled downstream, because this
you begin to realize, is not the song of a seed
fallen on stone, not some light scorched
into the dunes of the sky, but a phrase
whose wings fill the room, and you,––
you are that word which had remained
unnoticed in this sentence, and you begin
to speak with that light that quivers
like a branch, your own lips slightly moving
like a petal the bee has just left,
and you begin to realize you have lived
your whole life in this sentence
gradually unfolding towards its end,
the way the moon now ploys the sky,
}the way what you once thought was a mere star
now turns out to be a galaxy.
The First of December has me pausing, to slow down and reflect. I’ve been reminded of this lately in the readings and podcasts I’ve been taking in. They have me thinking about how I’m approaching this season and how also how I’m responding. One podcast that has struck a chord with me is The Calm Christmas podcast by Beth Kempton. She has collected such a delightful variety of readings, reflections, ideas and recipes to put focus on for a slow approach to the upcoming holiday. It really sits well with my soul.
This poem comes from another collection of advent readings I am participating in reading each day. I had to read it a few times to really make sense of it, but the phrasing felt so rich. My eyes continually travel back to “something like the ache of flowers for their seeds”- what a strong image for the gardener in me. For those interested in this faith-focused advent reading, Biola University puts out a project each year of art, poetry, scripture, song and reflection that has always resonated with me strongly.
Beth Kempton’s prompt for December 1 was to “take a walk, whatever the weather”. Our weather was not particularly inviting with a gusty, grey mood to the morning, but I’m glad I followed her cue. I found myself enjoying the surprisingly mild air and looking for wintry bits of foliage to collect. I came home with a pocket full of branches adorned with clusters of white berries to add to the greens I’ve been decking my halls with.
However your start to December is looking, I encourage you to also take a moment and follow Beth’s prompt- welcome the month in with a slow walk to enjoy that winter air.
