Month: December 2022

Happy New Year! Celebrating the new year is a means for looking back and looking ahead. I gave up making new year’s resolutions years ago, but an appealing idea is Celebrating the Old Year and acknowledging small moments I remember (and in some cases wrote about) in 2022.

The new year offers ways to improve myself and support the communities I care about. It also creates opportunities for reflection on things that made me smile:

• Seeing my kitties’ quiver butts of excitement when they are about to be fed
• Listening to the calls of cow elk to their babies, and vice versa
• Noting the first pink light from sunlight on the Continental Divide
• Discovering mountain lion tracks along a trail
• Bubbles rising in ice on an alpine lake
• Sensing the wiggly bottoms of happy dogs
• Clouds that look like an image of something
• Warm creamy hot chocolate
• The first sip of coffee in the morning
• Coming upon a tiny snowperson on a trail in the park
• My kitties nudging my hand to tell me it is time to get out of bed (and feed them!)
• A snowshoe hare peaking out from his hiding place in the trees
• The stealth sound of goose wings as they fly overhead
• Putting on festive socks each Monday to celebrate “Sock Monday” at the park
• Getting an unexpected call/email/text from someone from my past just to say hello
• Birds delighting on the fresh seeds at the birdfeeder
• Remembering the fun and funny aspects of people who began their unearthly journeys this year
• Hearing a song associated with warm memories from a time long passed
• Wailing on a trumpet fanfare in band
• Anticipating the first sight of the full moon rising
• Stopping and staring at a beautiful landscape
• The seriousness and pride of a child getting sworn in as a Junior Ranger
• And much more…

December 21, the Winter Solstice, is a monumental date for me each year. The Winter Solstice is the day with the shortest period of daylight and longest night of the year. The sun is at its lowest daily maximum elevation in the sky. At noon in sunshine on December 21, I cast a long shadow and appear to be taller than any other time of the year. I revere the date because everything is “UP” (except my height!) from there.

I prefer light over darkness, as do most people. I like the yin-yang of light and darkness. I convince myself that darkness helps me appreciate the light. Light fills the dark spaces. I do, however, sometimes feel the “winter blues” related to limited sunlight.

I know people who have Seasonal Affective Disorder, a clinical diagnosis that makes this time of darkness quite difficult. They may require phototherapy, counseling, and/or medication to get through this period. I try to ward off down feelings by staying busy and looking for signs of light as the days get longer. Because Colorado has so many days of sunshine (300 days a year), I can get outdoors most days and get my dose of Vitamin D. In addition, one additional minute of light each day buoys me.

Cultures and religions highlight the importance of putting light into our lives. For example, Chanukah’ (12/18-12/26) is the Festival of Lights because the central symbol of the festival is the menorah, the seven-branched candelabrum. Christians celebrate Jesus as the divine light coming into the world on Christmas eve. Iran has the Yalda festival that marks the day that Mithra, an angel of light, was born. China’s Dongzhi festival emphasizes when winter’s darkness begins to give way to light. Scandinavians celebrate Yule, or Ule, a multi-day feast when people celebrate the return of the sun god.

I decorate my house each year with red Christmas lights around the mantel. After I take them down in early January, I replace them with blue lights that I illuminate every night until the Spring Equinox. Our town puts up Christmas lights before Thanksgiving and keeps them up into mid-February. Although it is artificial light, it brightens my world until the longer days return.

I enjoy winter. I like winter activities. I don’t mind the cold. An advantage of the long nights is that I always see the sunrise this time of the year. Nevertheless, I celebrate the promise of more light each day when the Winter Solstice passes.

Energy is needed for holiday gatherings. I particularly think about my mother and her obligatory vigor over the years to ensure that our family was comfortable and happy on Christmas Day. She supplied physical and undervalued invisible emotional labor to keep us contented and cheerful.

Emotional labor is a term coined by sociologist Arlie Hochschild. She proposed that emotional management requires the consumption of human energy. It can occur in the workplace and/or at home. A compelling leisure research analysis by Leslie Bella, The Christmas Imperative, described how little fun holidays were for some women because of the amount of labor they not only put into preparations for family gatherings but also the momentum expended to make sure that everyone was compatible and had an enjoyable time with limited awkward moments. Holiday rituals are significant, and mothers are usually responsible for them.

I am grateful for everything that my mother did. I don’t think I realized how important it was until later in her life. Although I returned to Iowa for most holidays and was there Christmas eve day and Christmas morning to be her sous chef, I didn’t have the emotional investment she had.

Having tasty food was important to mom and she tended to vary the menu. An important prerequisite was the dinner table. Regardless of how many people were invited, she insisted on everyone sitting around the big table, or the kids’ table nearby. The red tablecloth provided a stunning backdrop for the plain white China and Crystal glassware. Festive Christmas cloth napkins added flare. Every year she made new placards so there would be no questions about where to sit when it was time to offer Christmas blessings and begin the feast. During the meal, she guided the conversations as she assured that everyone got plenty to eat.

Mom loved her role, but eventually it was not only the physical busyness but also the emotional stress that resulted in her giving the Christmas tableware to my sister so she could continue the family traditions. My sister was not invested in the details, and the actual Christmas dinner was never the same when we gathered. I miss my mom’s Christmas celebrations.

I wish I could tell my mom again, as well as my grandmothers and aunts, how much we appreciated the efforts, physical and emotional, into making Christmas dinner and all our holiday gatherings a lifelong happy memory.

Ah, the sights, sounds, and smells of a fire crackling in a fireplace. I miss that romanticism and at the same time, recognize that for many people the functionality is more important than the aesthetics.  

I grew up in a farmhouse that used a wood stove for heating the downstairs of the drafty old house. As a kid I didn’t realize how much effort it took to maintain that wood stove. As I got older, I often had the responsibility of assuring plenty of wood in the bin on the porch so that dad could get it started every morning before the family stirred.

My mom was not thrilled about that stove with all the work and cleaning it took. She couldn’t wait to remodel the kitchen and get rid of the wood stove. However, within a couple years she realized the ambience (and economy) of the heat source and a newer version that was far less intrusive was installed.

Until I moved to Colorado, I lived in houses that had wood burning fireplaces. I didn’t use them as a heat source, but they added greatly to the coziness of my home. During those years I learned the art of “scrounging for wood.” Keeping alert for anyone who had wood to give away became an occupation. With the help of friends, I was able to saw, split and haul wood to prepare for the winter fires. If all else failed, I could buy split wood but that was not nearly as gratifying as scavenging.

In my Colorado townhome, I flip a switch to start a gas-burning fireplace. It is easy and tidy, but not nearly as much fun. Fortunately, I have friends who have real fireplaces and I seek opportunities to help them find wood and get it ready for the winter so I can enjoy it when I visit.

Scrounging for wood does not appear on any list of leisure activities but I relish the task. An older woman in Estes Park relies on a wood stove to compensate for the costs of her furnace system. I am part of a community that supplies wood. I continue to experience the unusual thrill of cutting, splitting, and stacking wood for someone besides myself who appreciates scrounging on many levels.