My Solstice
December 22, 2008
by Jeffrey Pierce
Traditionally, I wake up hours before dawn on Winter Solstice, heading for the some lonely mountain peak or hidden sea cave to welcome the sunrise. It's pretty rare for even Oregon's Coast Range Mountains to have more than a light dusting of snow on December 21st. Lot's of rain, but in this surprisingly temperate corner of the world, snow is rare. (The Cascade Mountains to the east are another story, renown for their skiing and numerous passes are closed by this time of year due to impassable amounts or snow.) Most years, it's a treat to wake up to a dusting of snow, scattered across the earth like a conservative sprinkling of powdered sugar.
This year was another story altogether.
First the normally rain-soaked earth froze, covering everything in a thin sheet of ice. Then it snowed. And then it snowed some more. And then the freezing rain descended, covering the several inches of snow in a quarter inch of solid ice.
a tuft of grass peeks through the snow, only to be covered in freezing rain
And then it really began to snow.
A pagan Winter Solstice morning in our world is pretty much like Christmas morning everywhere else - it just happens four days earlier. There are stockings for all (even the grown-ups) and presents from Santa for our four kids. The only really big thing we do with the kids is that when we open presents we open them one at a time. The gift giver offers it to the recipient with a heartfelt, "I picked out this gift for you because" and then fills in the blank with a thoughtful comment that doesn't give away what the gift-wrapped box contains.
We don't make a big deal of the return of the sun, partly because we're a blended family that's still blending (Bri and I were married just this last June) and partly because we live and breathe spirituality. Everyone knew that it was the darkest day of the year. The kids mentioned it constantly - and then backed up their comments with the fact that the hours of daylight will begin to grow, continuing to Summer Solstice when the process is reversed.
Trees all around us began shedding their branches, the limbs snapping and falling to the earth under the weight of the accumulated ice and snow. We lost power and laughed at the joke, "The best thing about being married to a witch? You have tons of candles on hand when the power goes out!" The children didn't miss a beat, playing by candlelight and Briana and I actually found a few stolen moments alone. When the power came on, the kids asked, "Can we turn off the lights and leave the candles on?"
Just another day in our little corner of the world.
frozen rain coats a tree branch in ice
All day long we were treated to the sound of splitting wood and the crashing of tree limbs. Our house took one direct hit and several glancing blows from limbs that snapped off the neighbor's walnut tree. There were sleigh rides in the snow, Dad valiantly running up and down the frozen sidewalk pulling kids behind him on a makeshift sled.
broken wood remains where a tree limb snapped under the weight of ice and snow
The day was capped off with a long walk around the frozen neighborhood, taking pictures and collecting wood from downed tree limbs for summertime wand making. (Wand wood takes approximately six months to thoroughly dry.)
gathering wood for crafting wands
We woke up this morning to another five inches of snow and it's been snowing constantly throughout the day. My days will be spent working on the site, finishing up the coming year's schedule of classes (at least the first round of them), working with students, carving wands and faerie blades, and chipping away at a thousand other projects.
a fallen leaf, captured in snow and ice