Tidings of Comfort and Joy

The winter solstice, snowy tales, and inspiring music

Warmest holiday greetings! I hope this letter finds you well. If you reside in the Northern Hemisphere, the dark of the year is nearly at an end. The Winter Solstice has brought the return of the sun, and if you’re affected by seasonal affective disorder as I am, the promise of longer days is a reason to rejoice. Now that I’m out of the city and living close to nature, I notice (and appreciate) the seasons in a way that I wasn’t able to before. I can go out in the back yard and watch the vibrant sun setting over a blueberry field (the same field where I caught a glimpse of two coyotes last month!) I am so grateful for the wild beauty that is now available to me.

The sunset a few days before the solstice

On the morning of the 22nd, I rose early to see the sun rise. It was too bitterly cold to venture outside, so I watched from the warmth of my living room. The peaceful moment inspired me to write this short poem:

Crows call in the distance as the sky lightens over the bay.

Blue watercolor clouds hang low on the horizon,

Creating the illusion of slowly drifting hills.

The rising sun paints a streak of blushing apricot across the sky…

A proclamation of hope on this gentle solstice dawn.

The trees were blocking the sun from view, so I moved upstairs for a higher vantage point. And when I raised up the shade, I received a delightful surprise: a pattern of frost that mirrored the towering trees in the distance! I was filled with awe as I watched the sun peek through the frosty window, making it sparkle like champagne.

A blessing from the frost fairy

The only thing that could make this solstice week any better would be snow for Christmas, but since that isn’t going to happen this year, I decided to write some flash fiction about a magical snowfall. I hope you enjoy it!

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The Scent of Snow

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As I prepare my morning cup of coffee, the soft winter light beckons me outside. I wrap myself in a fleece robe and step onto the porch. There’s a crisp chill in the air – a hint of snow beneath the evergreen. The nostalgic scent takes me back to a childhood Christmas I spent in the mountains…

Thirty long years ago, Grandpa rented a secluded log home large enough for the whole family to gather in. Me and my cousins slept up in the loft. The older kids got the bunk beds, but us little ones made a nest of sleeping bags on the floor – huddling together like snug little bear cubs. One night, I was woken by the tinkling sound of bells. A strange gray light shone through the window. I crawled from the nest and went over to investigate. A pristine blanket of white covered the once green forest. Grandpa had been right – we would have snow for Christmas! I crept down the staircase, quiet as a mouse. Two adults were sleeping on the sofa bed, but I managed to tiptoe past without being heard. After slipping on my boots and coat, I opened up the back door and stepped into an enchanted forest.

Snowflakes spiraled down from the pearly sky. The air was utterly still – a hushed silence unlike anything I had ever experienced before. The only sound was my drumming heartbeat as I stared in wide-eyed wonder. People always told me that snow didn’t smell like anything, but that wasn’t true; it had a crisp, clean scent like frosted Christmas trees. I inhaled deeply, filling my lungs with the freshest air I’d ever breathed. My body tingled with storybook magic. Was this how Lucy Pevensie had felt when she discovered Narnia?

Euphoria sang through me as my boots sank deep into the snow. Its muffled crunch was oddly satisfying. I took another step; then another. As I neared the giant spruce tree, a red fox darted out from under it – a fiery blur against the stark white. When she was well out of reach, the fox paused to glance back at me. I waved a mittened hand, and with a swish of her tail, she disappeared into the forest. I followed alongside her pawprints, marveling at how much larger my feet were. As a city dweller, I had always felt detached from nature; but tonight, I was a part of it. Our tracks were proof that we had experienced the exact same moment in time, and that seemed like a small miracle to me.

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If you’re in the mood for more seasonal magic, you can read my story Lost and Found, which I published last Christmas 😊

And here are a few musical goodies to fill your virtual stockings with:

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During this holiday season, I wish you joyful celebrations, comforting stories, beautiful music, and moments of wonder — with, or without snow!