Tis the Season

Christmas lights didn't exactly get put up, but they're just as pretty.

Red chile wreath brightening my front door

Growing up Christmas wasn't so much about church or religion. It was a time to celebrate with family and bring some brightness into the dark days of winter.   

The last several years though I found myself lacking the Christmas spirit.  This year was no exception.  Looking back over the past years, I started to think about old traditions, so I wrapped up my presents, got out some Christmas lights (as you can see I didn't quite get them up on a tree, but they're still pretty), and brought out the red chile wreathes.  I'm not sure how it came to be a tradition, but every Christmas Eve my mother made a big pot of beef vegetable soup.  So I started a few days ahead making my own beef stock and starting on the soup.  It's surprising how traditions can help.  I began to feel a bit more Christmasy.

Thinking about old traditions, brought me back to the years I spent in New Mexico.  The time of celebration started early there.  I loved it!  Fun from fall straight through to the end of the year.  It started in late summer with the harvest of green chiles.  The smell of roasting chiles permeated the air.  Soon the aspens and cottonwoods were turning gold along the Rio Grande.  They inspired Georgia O'Keeffe and always brought me joy too. 

Cottonwoods III - Georgia O'Keeffe

Dead Cottonwood - Georgia O'Keeffe

Shortly after that the air was filled with color.  Balloon Fiesta time!  The sound of the balloons firing up, their glow in the chilly early morning air.  It was a feast for the senses.  Fall also brought bird migrations.  Hummingbirds started to head south, cranes too could be seen and heard flying along Sandia mountain.  One after the other was a celebration of the seasons.  Halloween and Thanksgiving, followed by my birthday and Christmas.  One of my favorite Christmas traditions there, was cooking for Christmas dinner.  I'd put a fire in the fireplace heating my tiny house and filling the air with the scent of burning piñon and cedar.  I'd pull the sofa between the fireplace and the kitchen as I cooked late into the night. Often with a glass of burgundy and my father's version of Boursin or maybe a fine chocolate.  One last ritual for the year was going through all my things; closets, shelves, and everything stored away.  I haven't done that in a number of years either.

Going forward in 2015, I'm going to try to pay attention to personal routines and rituals, and finding ways to celebrate the seasons.  I've found some already; riding the bus for my early morning commute, drawing every day,  taking walks in the woods or meadows, and seeking out the beautiful winter sunsets.  I hope to reconnect to more as the new year plays out.

My street with a colorful winter sky