Most of you will read this column on December 21, the day of the Winter Solstice, the shortest day and longest night of the year. In 2014, I had written:
“In winter, Mother Earth shows her bones. The ground is bare— no grass, no colorful flowers, only evergreen leaves. The shape of the land stands out in sharp relief, with jutting rocks and tree roots just below the surface, like veins on an old woman’s hands. The land in winter holds a spare and haunting beauty…
“In December, the sun drops behind the leafless trees in the west by mid-afternoon. Darkness comes early, so Winter Solstice celebrations in ancient times would have been joyous events, for the solstice heralds the beginning of the light half of the year. Daylight hours gradually lengthen and the soil and air begin to warm. Leaf buds appear on the trees and the first bulbs poke their little green heads through the soil.”
I reread the lines I had quoted that day in 2014: “And don’t think the garden loses its ecstasy in winter. ...