Acceptance

In response to a prompt from Cate at Beyond the Fields We Know, I am writing today about acceptance. This year, I am entering into winter with an attitude of acceptance. Winter isn't something I've been very receptive to in past years, but I am trying to learn from friends who love this stark season to see its beauty. I have always been a fan of the interior comforts of winter: warm blankets, long novels, and warm mugs of fragrant, steaming beverages. I have always enjoyed the soups and stews that simmer on the stove, beginning in autumn when the weather cools. I have enjoyed sharing Christmas magic with my children: filling our house with color and light and then packing up in early January to enjoy a clean, more streamlined interior.

But... I have resisted getting out in the weather that winter brings to my windy, northern locale. All winter long, I feel as if I am walking with my head down and my shoulders squared, braced against the biting wind and bitter cold. Weather forecasts unnerve me as I anticipate difficult road conditions on the way to obligations and commitments. I tend to pare my to-ing and from-ing down to necessary trips only. A break in the weather allows a deep sigh and perhaps a spontaneous excursion.

A couple of weeks ago, just after I had written "A Song for Winter" welcoming the lengthening days that stretch ahead of us, I read a post on an email group to which I belong. The writer was telling a story of clearing her desk of Christmas decor, and setting out her white and silver winter accessories. She mentioned that the days of "deep winter" are a favorite time of year for her. The way she wrote it, that tiny two-word phrase "Deep Winter" sounded like a meditation. She was welcoming and accepting a time of year that I trudge through reluctantly.

The writer is a woman who exhibits grace and charm in all her writing. She has travelled a bit, read extensively, and always has wisdom and encouragement to share. Reading her words, I have been inspired to embrace deep winter with acceptance and joy. In these days of deep winter stillness, I want to walk in the snow more than I did last year, make more snow angels, and sing more songs in the sleeping garden.

photo by Aisling, rose leaves against the snow, December 25, 2007

Stories

"One of the most valuable things we can do to heal one another is listen to each other's stories." ~ Rebecca Falls

My 2008 journal, A Woman's Diary, has the quote above on the first page. I intend to use that sentiment as my guiding philosophy this year, in living and in writing this blog. In conversation, in reading and writing, it really is all about the stories. Stories connect us to others in a vital way, allowing us to share the human experience! Thank you for stopping by to share my life in the Quiet Country House! A Happy New Year to you all!

photo by Aisling, December 25, 2007

A Christmas Wish...

Naughty Maudie wishes you a very nice Christmas!

Love and best wishes from the rest

of the Quiet County House Clan too!

photo by Aisling, December 25, 2007

Winter Solstice

A Song for Winter

Let Winter come,
cool and healing,
like the laying of hands
upon a fevered brow.

Let Winter's hush
lay upon us,
like new-fallen snow,
still and undisturbed.

Let Winter's subtle palette
paint the earth and sky,
letting our eyes rest
for a time.

Let Winter's cadence,
a long, deep breath,
slow our steps,
and steady our beating hearts.

Let Winter nourish us,
as the slowly melting snow
nourishes the earth
in the spring.

~ original poetry by Aisling, all rights reserved, December 20, 2007

photos by Aisling, December 20, 2007 1) Japanese Maple (cultivar: Waterfall) 2) ice & lichen on firewood 3) knotted grapevine

Poetry Thursday - Handmade

Our Christmas tree is very homespun and eclectic, with no design scheme what-so-ever. Handmade creations, made by artists of all ages, hang amid mass-produced ornaments received as gifts and in stockings over the years. There are ornaments my husband made as a child, with his aunt or at a neighbors house, and there are ornaments I made with our children. There are both colored and "tiny white twinkle lights" because there is no consensus in the house as to which is better. Dotted around the tree are my favorite mid-twentieth century glass bulbs. I have only a few, but I love they way they reflect the sparkling lights - white and colored.

The styrofoam ornament above is one that my husband made as a child. It is hanging on the tree next to an ornament our youngest son made at preschool last year, and above one that his aunt crocheted early in our marriage. At Christmas time, the years and memories of our family are all stitched together, homespun and heartwarming, like a patchwork quilt.

(a Christmas Ornament haiku)

made by little hands

some so many years ago

some just yesterday

~ haiku by Aisling, December 20, 2007

Monday Muse - Wintersong

I have been listening to Sarah McLachlan's Wintersong cd most often this holiday season. The tranquil mood it sets is just what I need to balance the hectic calendar that arises from children's musical programs, work Christmas parties, and other committments. My favorites, though it is so hard to pick, are Sarah's Wintersong and her cover of Joni Mitchell's River. You can listen to some snippets of this music here:

http://www.sarahmclachlan.com/wintersong.html

Poetry Thursday - The Winter Landscape

sun-dazzled blue sky

stubbled hills softened by snow

a bright new landscape

~ Aisling, December 6, 2007

Shifting patterns of cloud keep changing the mood of this day. When the clouds cross the sun, the day is shadowed and one believes easily that more snow is on the way. When the wind moves the clouds away from the sun's bright face, the sky is vibrantly blue and the light glints off the snow that blankets the ground. I see evidence of the slow-turning of the year, as the stalks that supported last summer's wildflowers and the autumn's bountiful seedheads rise, pale and brown, above the snow. I wrote this haiku in one of the sunlit moments of the early afternoon. The photos I've included show both the shadows and the light of early December in these northern hills.

photos by Aisling, December 6, 2007