The Turning of the Year
By Kenneth L. Patton
The days of the year have stiffened in ice, and darkness has grown upon the land.
The season of cold and early dusk is upon us.
The sun has retreated down the sky, the living green has forsaken the earth, and the leaves have fallen.
The flowers no longer bloom, and the birds have fled to the south.
We approach the shortened days with peace, for the ancient fear is no longer on our faces.
The heavy death upon the earth is no lasting peril, and the roots in the soil are only sleeping a long sleep.
We hold the turning of the year as a promise; and the renewing of life is our solid hope. The time of returning light is known, and we ready our homes for the celebration. The sun will climb the heavens again, and the darkness will be pushed back each day.
The months of snow will give way to the months of leaves, and petals will fall upon the earth.
The young will be brought from the womb, and the shoot will burst from the seed.
We will walk upon the greening grass, and our plowshares will divide the warming soil.
In the midst of winter the promise is given of the summer season, and in the midst of darkness there comes the assurance of light.
In the time of cold comes a messenger of warmth, and in the days of death there is heard the good news of life.
Long but satisfying day. Picked up apaulled at work, went to see Lisa Moscatiello and Rosie Shipley on guitar and fiddle in the rain at the lunchtime concert series in the farmer's market, tiny crowd which meant we got to chat with them during the break, lovely music despite humidity-induced instrument vicissitudes. We ate California Tortilla for lunch there, too.
Have started the new year off right, writing porn and working a bit on angsty yet hopeful fic. Earlier, had enormous dinner with parents, husband's parents, kids and friends of parents (salad, gefilte fish, chicken soup with matzoh balls, chicken piccata, carrot souffle, a potato pancake with sour cream, barley with pine nuts, nubian chocolate roll and a little bit of lemon meringue pie, plus the traditional apples and honey and challah and wine. We are going out for our usual brunch at the pancake house before afternoon services, and we forgot to cancel younger son's violin lesson, so late in the day we must go there as well. May be long day but hopefully uplifting in the way that religious holidays involving a lot of good food can be.
Ridiculous conversation with my partner in crime:
ashinae: So there's a giant vat of jelly attacking Newmarket.
cruisedirector: Do you wish to elaborate or should I just wish you good luck?
ashinae: I figure what I'll do is fashion two really big pieces of bread, slather them with peanut butter, and trap the jelly in between.
cruisedirector: Okay, but what I meant was more...was this unleashed on Newmarket by angry, resentful Quebeçois, or Al Qaeda, or is it a result of acid rain from Bush administration policies or what?
ashinae: It was aliens. They don't like us very much.
cruisedirector: They don't like anyone very much except the Swiss.
ashinae: I've noticed that. They seem to think that we pose a threat to them because, see, there's a lake here named Fairy Lake and in their language "Fairy" means "Great Weapon".
cruisedirector: Oh, please, you know that fairies are a threat to FAMILY VALUES.
ashinae: But these aliens reproduce asexually!
cruisedirector: So did Dick and Lynne Cheney! What does that have to do with anything?
ashinae: *sporfle* I feel the need to urge you to post that.
And happy Mexican Independence Day.