Full of Light

When my boys were in kindergarten they had a teacher, Mrs. M, who tried to be inclusive of everyone in the classroom. This was 25 years ago and the principal considered this a revolutionary concept. It was a stretch during November and December as there were children who celebrated Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, Diwali, Solstice, and Rohatsu. (Just in case you're not familiar, Diwali is the Hindu Festival of Lights, and Rohatsu is the celebration of the Buddha's enlightenment.) The clever teacher had a meeting with interested parents and during the meeting, we all agreed that one thing these celebrations had in common was that each one incorporated Light in different ways. Mrs. M designed a month-long series of lessons about different cultures, different religions, and how all these holidays were celebrated with Light. She relied a lot on parents to volunteer in the classroom, prepare special food, talk about their own customs and made sure that everyone was included. It was educational for me as I knew nothing about Kwanzaa, Diwali, and Rohatsu, and I think it was both fun and educational for all the students. 

So I still think of this season as the Season of Light. No matter whether your own celebrations include the lights from the North Pole Weather Observatory and Mrs. Claus' greenhouse, the Hanukkah menorah, Kwanzaa kinara candles, Diwali oil lamps, or anything else, I hope that your hearts, homes, and holidays are full of Light. 

(And maybe even some hallowed hedgehogs and a reverent raccoon in your manger.)

Light and Shadow

Sunny days have been rare around here recently, but even when the sky is gray, I'm still struck by the light and shadows that are produced. Since I'm spending so much time at home, I'm developing a new appreciation for what I can see (but rarely take the time to notice) in my sheltering home. 

I hope you are getting some opportunities to enjoy the light and shadow in your home. Stay home and stay well. 

Riches of Rainbows

I couldn't come up with a single thing to write about today, but then I went into Justin's room and saw this:

 

There is a faceted crystal prism hanging in his window, and the sun was just right to cast rainbows all over his room.

On the deer mural that covers one wall,

 his blanket,

and the rug on the floor.

I tried to recreate the lovely display on the kitchen wall, but it just wasn't the same.

Here's hoping you get to enjoy a light, bright, and colorful weekend.

Fall Light

These photos are a combination of the sky above, earth below, and a reflecting lake. I was driving past Lake Nockamixon in 2015 and was struck by the golden glow, visible even from the road. I turned around, headed down to the lake, and was met with an awesome scene that I can still remember vividly. I haven't seen anything similar since (even though I've tried), but these photos are too good not to share (again).

I wish you could have seen it in person, as my photos don't come near to doing the scene justice. I was passing the lake at just the right time and the glow from the near-setting sun on the trees and the reflection was simply incredible. I spent nearly half an hour along the water's edge, taking photos, lying flat on the ground to try and best capture the reflections, and just enjoying the views. What a treat to be in the right place at the right time, and be privy to something so awe-inspiring.

Let There be Light

There is a scientific and astronomical explanation for the Winter Solstice, and I'm grateful for the Earth's rotation, revolution, and 23.5° tilt on its axis. For me, the most wonderful and significant thing about the Solstice is the gradual lengthening of daylight and shortening of night. Let there be (more) Light!

Think ... Write ... Thursday! Hello, December

Hello, December,

You snuck up on me, just like every year. One moment it's Thanksgiving, with too much delicious food and not quite enough time with family, but as soon as I finish washing the Thanksgiving china and vacuuming the crumbs from under the table, I turn around and you are knocking at the door. Your stress-filled days of Christmas shopping, crowds, cleaning, decorating, attending work parties when I'd rather stay home and knit just wear me out. You've given me too many instances in which I desperately miss my far-away sons, and then have to pretend that I'm not sad so I don't spend our video chat time with tears in my eyes, making all of us sadder. Thoughts of what lies ahead when you whisper that this is most likely the last Christmas for several ill family members are almost too much to bear.

But ... you've also got some warm moments in your cold days. An empathetic, understanding, and pragmatic oncologist that I love and just want to hug (and I might even do that tomorrow). Cookie Day with all the women in my family is a real highlight. Enjoying the fact that Ryan is becoming a creative cook, who is able to use his chemistry and math backgrounds to come up with a delicious new quiche that I am taking to John's boss' party. Appreciating that Justin is an incredibly responsible and forward-looking young man, working long and hard towards a permanent position so he doesn't have to be an intern forever.

December, your gift of Christmas is what usually comes to my mind first when I think of you, but this year you are presenting me with something I will appreciate even more - your solstice. That day with the fewest hours of daylight reminds me that yes, there is plenty of darkness, but minute by minute, more light is returning with every new day.

So hello December, with your good and bad, light and dark, happiness and sadness, but always love.

Yours in warmth,
Bonny

Read other Think ... Write ... Thursday! posts here, and sign up for Carole and Kat's great idea here. 

Through Rose-Colored Glass

I was doing some cleaning recently, and while wiping the windowsills I took a good look around. I'm lucky enough to have stained glass pieces in many windows, and lots of these are gifts from very special people. In order for me to better treasure and appreciate them I'm going to share them with you.

This little rosette and cheery yellow bird were here when we moved into the house (along with a horsehair-filled mattress, but that's a story for another time). I like the primary colors and think the little bird is sweet, so they're still in the windows 27 years later.

The rainbow "quilt square" was a housewarming gift from a dear friend. It hangs in the window over my kitchen sink, where I spend a lot of time and can look out on my back yard through glowing color.

My mother dabbled in lots of crafts (sewing, knitting, rug making) but she took a class in stained-glass making and found the one she really loved. She made lots of little Christmas ornaments and then started to branch out into larger pieces. This fuchsia is one of the first she made for me. I love the shape and the beaded edge.

This little lamp that sits on my phone table was my mother's next gift. I got to choose the base and glass colors and then just sit back and wait for my lamp. It's the perfect size and casts a lovely glow.

My mother didn't make this butterfly specifically for me, but it was one of her completed pieces that we found while cleaning out her things after she passed away. I am happy it found a home in one of my dining room windows.

In my other dining room window hangs a very special favorite. My mother made this just for me, even letting me pick out special glass for the rose petals. You can't appreciate it from the photo, but there are very tiny bits of gold in the glass that lend beautiful sparkle and depth. The movers broke it when we moved here from Syracuse and I was heartbroken, but my mother patiently took the whole thing apart, replaced the broken pieces, and put it all back together. You can see why I love it so much, for its own beauty and for what it represents to me.

This rose bower is in our living room window because John thought we needed more roses. It was a thoughtful Christmas gift that provides us with flowers and loveliness year-round.

I feel fortunate and grateful to have so many stained glass pieces helping me to enjoy a rose-colored view.

Light and Shadow II

“For a while they stood there, like men on the edge of a sleep where nightmare lurks, holding it off, though they know that they can only come to morning through the shadows.”
~  J.R.R. Tolkien, The Two Towers

There has been a lot going on here in the last month, some good, lots that has been not good. I've felt like my life has been metaphorically cloaked in shadow much of the time (sorry for the dramatics!), but leading to the Solstice today and the lovely return of light, I started paying attention to actual light and shadow and saw some interesting things (to me anyway.) When I was helping Ryan move to Fort Collins several years ago, I was struck by the patterns of light and shadow in his house, and have been intrigued to find many more instances around me when I looked.

I have old, wavy glass in many of my windows, but I never realized

 just how wavy it is until I started paying attention to these reflections.

I am even beginning to see a bit of color!

Fall Light

It's been an upsetting, unsettling, and disquieting week, but while returning home from running errands I was treated to an amazing sight. Driving along Lake Nockamixon, I was struck by the golden glow coming from the lake. I quickly turned around, drove down to the shore to see what was going on, and was rewarded by this beauty.

  
I wish you could have seen it in person, as my photos don't come near to doing the scene justice. I was passing the lake at just the right time and the glow from the near-setting sun on the trees and the reflection was simply incredible. I spent nearly half an hour along the water's edge, taking photos, lying flat on the ground to try and best capture the reflections, and just enjoying the views. What a treat to be in the right place at the right time, and be privy to something so awe-inspiring.