Indifferent biggnesse
Yule! Yule is here with all its lights in the darkness, turns of the wheel and return of the sun! It makes me supremely happy. And a little sad as I feel the world turn once more. But we have two more months of winter, of rest and recuperation, where the fates, planets and our own bodies align to make nests of our lives, and I don’t intend to miss any of it.
Our Yule celebrations are small but significant. A simple meal to mark the occasion but that doesn’t weight us down with food like Christmas does. I break out this hot chocolate and take a flask of it to a wild place where I can sit with some thoughts, some intentions, before collecting greenery to make a Yule decoration with. This can be as simple as twisting some ivy into a circle, or as complicated as making a chocolate Yule log and feeding your friends with it.
I also like to pick up a piece of fallen wood and that will be slowly burned throughout the season, with just a little saved for lighting the Yule fire next year.
We were absolutely blessed with an unexpected and utterly beautiful snowfall at the end of November. I'm still such a kid in the snow, wanting to run around in circles, scoop it all up and throw it in the air. I try not to do that it's kind of frowned upon for an adult! But I do take every opportunity to get out of the house just so that I can kick it up in my boots and be the first person to make footprints across our allotment and our lawn.
The allotment in particular looked amazing in the snow. The whole site is lined with trees - elders, damsons, willows, all sorts - and they were all iced with it. The larch remained a tall sentinel and a haven for all the birds who were chirping furiously. Luckily, I’d taken a bag of peanuts up with me to refill the feeders. It was a frenzy the second I stepped away.
You can see from the images here just how magical it was. And there really isn’t any other word for it.
I had to take a work trip (actually, several but this was the only one by car and to Yorkshire) in November and my heart revolted at the thought of a service station, with their sad food offerings, echoing characterless buildings and general air of despair. Instead, 10 minutes off the motorway brought me to Newstead Abbey, former home of Lord Byron.
I’m not a huge fan of Byron, but I am a fan of autumn landscapes and light, so a stroll around the gardens and some homemade soup in the cafe were reasons enough for the detour.
Once upon my time, I was told a tale of a man who worked there, long after Byron had departed. He had been a former miner, looking after the pit ponies, as full of common sense and stoicism as any man. Unflustered and unphased by life. However, he would return home from a day’s work at Newstead looking pale and wobbly at the things he had seen. Things he shouldn’t have seen. Things that weren’t really there. It wasn’t long before he refused to be there after dark. It wasn’t even longer before he refused to work there at all…
I saw nothing otherwordly other than Pan looking devilish and some dodgy cagoules on other visitors.
My thoughts are turning towards Christmas as, I’m sure, all of yours are. Family and friends, at home or out and about, this is a time of year for feasting. For celebrating what we have and shoring ourselves up against the long days of winter still remaining. Does anyone still eat mince pies? Personally, I really like them but then I also like fruit cake, dark and dense, moist and heavy, with slices of Lancashire cheese crumbling next to a crisp apple. They are not to everyone’s taste.
And yes, I do make my own. Newsletter subscribers will already have received their Yule newsletter with my recipe in but for you all, I refer you to this recipe found in the National Archives. “For six Minst pyes of an Indifferent biggnesse”, you will need a loin of mutton and a leg of veal, as well as your currants, sugar, raisins etc…
Mine do not contain mutton. Or veal.
An old friend and I did our annual trip around the cathedral’s Christmas Tree Festival. You can see my favourites above, but that’s just four out of the dozens and dozens on display. They fill the cloisters and the undercroft with creativity and light, designed by local charities, companies and schools. It’s a real seasonal treat which we kick off with a crumbly mince pie and a very good coffee, and polish off with lunch somewhere nice. all the while chatting. It never fails to refresh me and I’m forever grateful for the company of friends who have known me long enough to be utterly themselves.
I’m writing this at the time of the full, Cold, moon. Today I’ve made pepparkakor, a gorgeous spiced biscuit from Sweden. Traditionally, they are made quite thin, like a ginger snap, but I’ve made mine thicker and used a vintage biscuit press that imprints lovely designs on the surface. They are delicious; spicy and warm with a kick from the cardamom and ginger, rich with molasses. Tomorrow, I shall ice them to carefully pick out some of the detail and then bag them up to hand out to people: my hairdresser, osteopath, the uncomplaining Evri delivery woman who never grumbles about parcel sizes…
Best nibbled with a glass of whatever you fancy, whilst reading by candlelight, I think.
I’ll leaving you with the gorgeous fox painting above by Charlotte Strawbridge (link under image, prints of this are only £25 and it’s so lovely). I love the thickness of the paint, the way it suggests snow and contentment, winter and warmth.
I wish you all of these things, plus lights in darkness, belonging and peace. May your season be all of those things. I’ll be back for Imbolc, when the world turns towards the light again.
