Hygge Chronicles #1

 

Rains coming down, temps dropping, winds whipping up.  Time to hygge!  Tomorrow is December and I am so not ready for the upcoming holidays, both mentally and emotionally.  I'm trying, my whole family is trying, but it's hard.  Our son passed away earlier this summer.  I never thought I'd lose a child.  Parents always believe they'll be the ones to go first.  It's unnatural.  But life goes on, and I have the rest of my family to think about, care for, love.  It's just the Christmas holidays will be the toughest, especially this year.

So that's why I'm embracing the Danes' theory of hygge, a way of life and attitude that embraces winter, celebrates this sleeping time that sends many of us into a tail spin.  For me, it's the loss of light, the darkness creeping in about 4:00pm. 
 

To battle the dreary gloom I've upped my game -- lots and lots of candles. I've added more mirrors throughout the house to help reflect more light.  I tend not to drop the blinds as much as before, letting the neighborhood holidays lights shine in from the outside.  And the fireplaces are going non-stop from about 3pm until bedtime.  

So, taking each day as it comes, tackling little projects (and bigger ones) each week, whether it's taking up the brush again or setting up my weaving loom and sorting through my stash of yarns.  I've even taken up cooking and trying new recipes, as our son was an excellent cook and could whip up some amazing dishes within minutes.  I'll try to carry on in his spirit and cook from the heart.

I think careful cooking is love, don't you? The loveliest thing you can cook for someone who's close to you is about as nice a Valentine as you can give."

Julia Child 

The Palest of Pale

"The light of memory, or rather the light that memory
lends to things, is the palest light of all. . . . 
I am not quite sure whether I am dreaming
or remembering, whether I have lived my life
or dreamed it. 

Eugène Ionesco

"There is such a thing as the impression of luminosity."

Ludwig Wittgenstein

momentary lucidity

lucid

photo by K. E. Marszycki

dappled shadows on the lawns,

prisms sparkling on the river,

then sliding into the purpled edges of the shoreline,

ocean sunlight so bright it makes one slip back

onto the sand and drift asleep . . . 

momentary lucidity

Autumn Light & Shadow

Autumn -- one of the most beautiful seasons with nature's array of colors, but also one of the saddest -- losing the light, deepening shadows conveying a sense of urgency, a growing awareness of decay beside such beauty.

Because of the drought we've experienced, the leaves are brittle and dry, curling up upon themselves before their time. I picked several hosta leaves that, to me, appeared almost mummified, frozen in time. I wanted to try and capture the delicacy of these structures. I knew I couldn't accomplish this with my camera, so I carefully scanned them, using a length of velvet as a soft weight.

I want to continue these explorations, this navigation through a shadow world that demands we look closely and spend time with these fragile structures.

So, as the light begins to fade and the orb of sun drifts down into the horizon, cherish the light -- grab those final moments and celebrate Autumn!

Come forth into the light of things.

Let nature be your teacher.

William Wordsworth