Happy New Year, belatedly.  And while I'm at it, a merry belated Christmas.  I trust that you enjoyed Kwanzaa, Hanukkah, Thanksgiving, now all in distant memory.  I really lost whatever meager momentum I had with these blog entries in November and December.  But a new year can bring new good intentions, and so I have reminded myself of the passwords I need to get to this blog space, and I start again.

In December you heard me talk, over and over, about the light.  At the core of the December holidays here in the north, we are mourning the death of the light as we move toward Solstice, and then rejoicing at the beginning of hope as the days begin to lengthen at the solstice turn.

But my holiday travels played a trick on me this year.  Hollis and Linnea and I flew to Ireland on Christmas Day for the marriage of the daughter of a very close family friend.  And so, after talking about the solstice here and those subtly longer days just beginning, we set ourselves back by going further north for nine days and finding two hours of additional darkness in each of those days.  Hollis and I have agreed that we felt this in our bodies and souls.  Each day died around 4 in the afternoon, and the nights seemed endless.  It didn't help that Ireland was experiencing unusual winter storminess and cold.  We came home, glad to have seen our friends, but yearning deeply for light and spring.  There will be more passion in my voice as I talk about the loss and return of the light next December.

There was a lovely gentle snow here in White Plains yesterday, and the sun is out this morning.  I really do like winter, but I want to feel that the spring is on its way, with longer light, the hope of warmth.  May it be here soon.