December

Winter arrived with a gentle thud in the Black Forest last week, and not a moment too soon. We had just finished having a new heating system installed, powered with wood pellets from local trees. It’s quite an amazing feeling, that after 17 years, we don’t have to work for heat. Well, we have to empty the bags into the furnace, but no hauling wood. And that feels like a new lease on life for us.

I was fully unprepared for winter, having wished this year that summer could go endlessly on. Maybe it was just the feeling of being outside that I wanted to extend. Preparing garden beds, eating vegetables that we grew. But now that it’s here, I welcome winter with open arms. The fresh air on my face when we walk the dog and the coziness of tights and turtlenecks. Soft jazz playing, and a candle or two lit. These are the traditions I’m practicing now, and December can come with its short days, dark late afternoons, and little white lights. I remember Christmas in Italy, when we’d lay pine branches in our wooden wheel barrow and receive with thanks the gift of a hand-plucked chicken to make our Christmas broth with - and of course the homemade Agnolotti with veal and spinach to cook in it.

The traditions continue. It was in Italy that I realized that December was for deep rest, that whatever problems or challenges happened over the year wouldn’t need to get solved until after the feast of the Epiphany during the first week in January. In that way, Christmas in Italy was the anthesis of Christmas in America; it was a slow winding down, the major purchases being for children or for good food. There was no rush, no panic, no anxiety. Good meals in nice local restaurants were celebrated during Advent, mostly at lunch, when course after course would be followed by a nap and no dinner. The work and the strains of the previous months were laid to rest, to be picked up sometime in January, when businesses would slowly open again, coming to life ever so slowly over the course of the month. Every year around December 15th, I would say to myself, I’ve done all I can this year. Now I must rest.

December in Italy is what December everywhere should be, I believe.

It should be about replenishment and thinking, for journaling and dozing off, for walking and nature. The crunch of frozen leaves under well-booted feet. The palette of white fields framing eggplant colored branches and black-green pine against a slate sky punctured by the occasional red cardinal. The dulling of noise by the snow and frost. Warm wood burning stoves and big sweaters.

And being together. As much as we can and still be safe in these trying times.

So put on some soft music, wrap yourself up on the sofa, and pour a cup of chai tea. And welcome the short days deep into your soul. They will pass quickly - they always do.

And be well.

Love,

Diana