Solstice

Tea: Orange Chocolate

Music: Unto Ashes, "Winter Born"

Time: Night.

On the longest night of the year, I offer one short wish: for light and warmth, in all good forms.

And if you have extra of either to give, by all means share it. It doesn't have to be financial, or even tangible. A warm word can go a long way in a cold world.

Let the lengthening of the days begin.

The minor fall, the major lift ...

Tea: Lapsang Souchong.

Music: Jeff Buckley, "Hallelujah"

Time: Almost midnight.

Yesterday was warm enough that a quilted jacket over a long-sleeved knit shirt felt like too much.

Today, it snowed. Somewhere during the afternoon, the wind kicked up -- and it's still blowing.

Tonight, it feels as though the cold is something not quite alive but also not entirely dead, something that wants to drape itself around my shoulders and dig in its claws.

But the warmth will return. It always does ...

Doesn't it?

Shivers and Gratitude

Tea: Keemun Concerto

Music: The Hush Sound, "Wine Red"

Time: Night.

It's cold outside. Cold as in the single digits, when wind chill is figured in (and low double digits otherwise). Inside, it's not exactly balmy.

I'm going to wear layers when I sleep tonight. I might even break out a hoodie. Socks are already on the definite list. My foot hurts, and cold doesn't help.

But you know what? I still have it pretty darned good, compared to a lot of people in this city tonight.

My thermostat works. I could turn it up to 80something if I wanted, although I'd get yelled at and I'd have to turn it back down after a couple of minutes. I can lift a faucet handle, fill the electric teakettle, hit a switch and get more hot water. I can make soup. I have blankets.

I think of the people who can't, who don't ... and I shiver, and not from the temperature.

So here's a prayer for the cold and hungry, for nourishment and warmth. And here's a postscript: Let me never take those for granted.