Yes. It's winter and it has been for what seems like forever and will continue for awhile. And I've been a little under the weather, not to mention wearing a mood that's, well, not worth mentioning.
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This is not typical Western Kentucky winter weather. First it was sleet, then ice, then it turned to snow and the next day there was a little more sleet, a tad more ice and then a nice smooth layer of snow. It started last Sunday. It's still here, today, Thursday, totally intact; not a flicker of it has melted in this 8* weather.
I got a little worried about my birds; I wasn't able to get out to the feeders. I had left a lot of dried seedheads out and about in my gardens, but the ice had buried them beneath the snow. The feeders were covered in ice. I was afraid my birds might be covered in ice as well.
Today I was feeling a little better so I decided I'd step outside and see if I could make a path to the upside down birdbath where I usually leave extra food. Would you believe the snow was so solid my steps didn't make a dent in it. Walking on ice! Before I had gone very far, common sense took over and I turned around, making my way back inside, leaving not a footprint showing where I had been. I never saw a single bird.
That didn't help my mood either, but when I got inside it occurred to me that I could just toss some seed through the door onto the icy snow covered deck and see what happened. If I could walk on that snow, I knew very well that the birds could, too. So I did, and before I could put the birdseed away, this is what happened. My February Blooms, seen through the glass darkly, but still beautiful in this icy, cold, snowy winter that seems determined to last forever.
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I wish I had a fireplace; I really wish I had a fireplace. Because if I had a fireplace, I would burn a Yule Log.
Aunt Bett and Ninna told me that the men were the ones who were supposed to cut down the tree that became the Yule Log, and before they cut it down, they were supposed to thank it for giving its life to become such a treasure. But the men were away in the war during the early years, and not very interested in the later years, so that left only Aunt Bett and Ninna and me to cut the Yule Log. We searched the mountain for the perfect old tree, one that was not too big for us to cut and carry down the mountain, but big enough that it would burn all night long. Aunt Bett said that our ancestors had fireplaces so big that an entire tree would fit, end to end, but ours was small and any big old dried branch would do.
All the ancestors before us burnt a Yule Log on Christmas Eve night, Aunt Bett said, partly in thanks for a good harvest and partly as good luck for a successful New Year to come. The log had to burn all night long, and the light from it would also welcome the Christ child into the world on Christmas Day. This was Aunt Bett's way, and whatever Aunt Bett and Granny Ninna said became my way too.
Sometimes, they said, the young men in the family made holes in the center at each end of the log, then filled them with dried herbs, resin from trees and oils that would ignite. Then they stuffed the holes with dried moss, ignited both ends at the same time, and sparks would fly and flames would crawl from each end of the log toward the middle, assuring that there were blessings upon the house and family for Christmas Day and the year that followed. I wanted so much to see those sparks fly, but neither Aunt Bett, Ninna, nor I could make very big holes in the ends of that log we carried down from the mountain.
Eventually the fireplaces in our home were dismantled and the walls were covered with knotty pine paneling and we had a huge coal burning furnace in the basement that used to be a cellar. There was no place for even a very small Yule Log anymore.
But Mom kept the tradition going with her Pecan Logs every Christmas. Sometimes they were sweet sugary treats and sometimes she filled them with smoked and flavored cheese and always they were rolled in chopped pecans for the bark. They were delicious treats, but in my heart I always missed the old Yule Log, even if that tradition was old as time and only celebrated by Aunt Bett, Granny Ninna, and me.
So even now as I make peanut butter rolls or pecan logs or cheese balls all covered in chopped nuts and filled with sugar and spice or cheese and garlic, I think of our Yule Logs. And I wish I had a fireplace filled from end to end with a big Yule Log stuffed with sage and resin and moss, with sparks flying from each end and flames meeting in the middle and showering my house and my life with blessings.
MERRY CHRISTMAS!
It's the first time in a long time that we've had any kind of winter weather worth mentioning. Summer droughts, spring floods and a fall tornado warning here and there seem to be the norm these past years. Not this time. This time we had rain then sleet then little ice balls then snow, then it started all over again. Three days now, and I'm a little tired of being housebound, surrounded by white where green once was and icicles hanging from the trees and the sudden sound of an ice laden limb cracking during the night. But with it all, there is a hushed beauty, the kind that brings with it memories of winters past and hickory smoke wafting and gingerbread baking and the flavor of peppermint candy canes in warm apple cider and cedar trees decorated with dancing bubble lights. Through it all, I hope there is enough snow on the ground to keep my sleeping plants warm.
Frozen Magnolia and Holly
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Diamonds in my Sky
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Sunshine and her Shadow
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So I'm enjoying the differences, the change from 75* to 5* in a matter of hours, the green to frozen white, the hustle and bustle of the season to a quiet December; a decorated tree and a young dog's first Christmas. We had to have a talk about the red blanket that was to be the tree skirt; she claimed it for her own for a little while. She's learning, though, and so am I.
Merry Christmas!
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When we walk into a garden filled with blooms or into a house fresh with green foliage, chances are we'll soon see a pet looking for all the world like she's right at home and welcoming us into her den. Happy to be there, dancing and prancing, purring and grinning, yipping with joy, letting us know all's right in our world.
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"This is my kingdom. I am Sunshine and I reign here, I rule, I am Queen of my World and of all who enter. Beware. Big. Bad. Dog. (Complete with wicked hugs and kisses)." |
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"Could we push the chair back a little? I like to feel the scratch of the Norfolk pine on my back." |
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"It's the bees turn now. When they're finished, I'll venture under and I'll bury my bones, dig some tunnels, take a nap and sleep on a bed of purple petals." |
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"It's only your pruned philodendron. It'll grow back after my nap. Promise." |
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"Vinca, you say that's vinca? Looks like chameleon or some kinda ivy to me. Whattya mean I can't taste it?" |
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"Do you think I look better nearer the dracena or the rubber plant? As for me, I much prefer the philodendron, I think it matches my eyes." |
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"Aahhchooo! What did you say this fuzzy thing is? An iris? It has dusty whiskers!" |
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"It is too my turn to sleep beneath the dracena. You slept there last night, now it's my turn!" |
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"If you'd move the Norfolk pine over just a bit, I could get a little shade here." |
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"Henbit, you say? And it's edible? I think not with that slimy worm slithering around it." |
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"Oh hello. Just hiding here behind the yucca, thinking good thoughts, guarding my territory, nothing much." |
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"Ahhhh yes, this is our world, too! Somebody mentioned all critters great and small, remember?" |
And the critters are Daisy, the dainty tuxedo cat, Jazz, the giant yellow cowardly lion, and Sunshine, the rescued lab/retreiver/shepherd/everything mix -- all a huge part of my world.
(Zanymuse, thanks for creating that last awesome image for Sunshine!)
A phenomenon is any incident deserving of inquiry or investigation and is particularly unusual or of distinctive importance; its plural is phenomena. . . or so says Wikipedia. I say there's some unusual craziness going on in my backyard.
Halloween night brought with it a phenomenon, a tornado ripped the roof off a little strip mall at the end of my street. To me it sounded like the start up of a huge tractor/trailer truck suddenly changing gears then stopping in the middle of the change and going dead silent. I didn't know about the tornado till the TV came back on and I could see the news. And I didn't know about the little events in my back yard until yesterday and today when I could get outside and find them. Tornadoes usually are spring events and they don't happen often here in Western Kentucky, but I never know when a little event might occur.
Until Halloween, most of the trees remained green and there weren't many color changes around me. The storm changed everything.
The burning bushes on the property line behind me had begun to turn to red, but it wasn't until yesterday that they began to glow like a beacon in the night.
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| From the deck | Through the smoke tree | Behind the Witch Hazel |
There were other changes too, the trees across the way seemed brighter, the crepe myrtle glowed and the golden raintree shimmered with light.
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Colorful leaves danced around the plantain, the mimosa, now naked, had strewn its clothes throughout the yard, and my one little group of hens and chicks seemed no worse for the wear, though a bit covered in debris.
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In the midst of all this sudden fall color, I caught a glimpse of bluish purple and since this isn't the season for blue nor purple, I had to look closer. You just never know what phenomena lurk after a fall storm.
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Violets rarely, if ever, bloom in Fall here in Kentucky; somebody forgot to mention that to these little guys.
Burning bushes always remind me of another phenomenon that rarely occurred, an argument between my Aunt Bett and Granny Ninna. Aunt Bett swore that the Euonymous alatus was a medicinal plant and Ninna swore that it was sacred and not to be touched, but that's a story for another time, another place; I'm just reminded of it when the bushes begin to burn.
