The biggest snowstorm in close to forty years visited us this past December, just in time for the Solstice. Yes, it was a white Kwanzaa (hmm…that’s another story!*), and a deep one too. We received over a foot of the White Blessing, and proceeded to dwell in below-freezing temps 24/7 for almost two weeks. In the midst of it, came rain (I guess it must have gotten above freezing for an hour or two), which then froze. Trees were down all along the state-maintained roads, and there were major delays while utility trucks from as far away as Alabama worked their chain saw magic to clear them. Our own tree damage was not that severe, and our “fellas” were out on the tractor giving us the option to test our tires on our own roads pretty quickly. It probably took a week before most of us dared to venture out—the bamboo on Another Way near the Forest Garden, which always hangs low when there’s an ice storm or snow, didn’t rebound and had to be chopped to the ground for the first time ever, so we could pass.

          Overall, we were pretty cozy and content, and we know that the White Blessing is just what the water table and the soil need for extra nourishment. There hasn’t been much snow here in many years. Oh, but then the thawing—paths and roads as mushy as mud stew. Gravel patches to get through the worst of it are all we can expect until the roads do their own version of “mending” and are solid enough again to let repairs last.

          Yes, water lines also froze. Folks in outlying neighborhoods on newer water systems offered showers and fill-ups, and folks hunkered down by their woodstoves, washing less and (we hope, anyway) cuddling more.

          In January there was more snow, and the sun didn’t give us a full day of brightness for the first half of the month. Generators back up valiant batteries sucking what they can from PV panels, and the micro-hydro system tunnels along merrily. Clearly, we haven’t been hit hardest by this unseasonal beginning to Winter—folks elsewhere are experiencing serious losses. Our hearts (and pennies) go out to all who are suffering from unstable weather patterns and the shifting of Earth’s underside. Stay safe, y’all, and cozy, and let us know how you’re doing this year, wherever you are.

          * About the other seasonal celebrations, after the gala Solstice gathering at the White Owl, we gave ourselves a taste of Chanukah, Christmas and Kwanzaa during those snow-covered times. In particular, Amakiasu and Ayo made a beautiful Kwanzaa ceremony for us in the Council Hall, combining background, ritual and story, which the delightful Forest Children enacted with great aplomb (i.e., “self-confident assurance”).

From Samhain (the season that includes Halloween—“hallowed evening” on October 31^st and the Day of the Dead on November 2^nd) to New Year’s, the season of holy days and celebrations helps buffer the shift to increasingly cold weather.

          Now in early December, many of us are still recovering from the indulgent joys of Thanksgiving, we’re already preparing for more of these special days—including Chanukah which begins on the 11th, the annual Bizarre Holiday Bazaar on the 12^th, our Winter Solstice celebration on the 20^th, the annual White Elephant party on Christmas Eve, Kwanzaa, which begins on the 26th, and the changing of the year itself that ends with our annual New Year’s Day parade and Lucky Local Lunch on New Year’s Day! Since most of that’s still ahead of us, I thought I’d just give you a taste of my favorite event so far.

          For the second year in a row, Kaitlin Heitzner (in photo) and River Otter organized an Ancestor’s Feast in the Council Hall the night before Halloween. Attendance seemed to be double last year’s turnout, and I had the best celebratory experience in recent memory. Besides the care and beauty with which our ceremonial goddesses prepared the space, the smudging, songs and silences along with the turkey, tales and toasts to the ancestors helped create deep and abiding memories of both the sacred and the sumptuous.

          After calling in the directions (in song), we formed our ceremonial circle and followed along with a beautiful chant for the beautiful changing season:

Altar tables had been set with seasonal and sacred objects and photos of our beloved departed family and friends (and pets), and we took some time in silence to gaze at them and feel the love that goes on and on, regardless of anyone’s presence. (Of course, some of us would swear a lot of spirit presence showed up in response to our rousing welcomes.)

          Samhain (pronounced saw-wane) is the Pagan New Year. (New years begin at so many time of the year, such as July 27^th in the Mayan calendar, the last new moon of late summer in the Jewish calendar, January 1^st in our Gregorian calendar, and yet another Lunar New Year—the Winter new moon celebrated by the peoples of the Far East—that we can practically go from one beginning to another all year round!) To honor the changing of this particular “year,” a ritual for letting go of the past was shared. We each took a handful of dry, brightly colored autumn leaves from a basket passed around the circle, then turned to face outward to privately contemplate any changes we each felt ready for. Letting go of the old, and inviting the new, we tossed the leaves away from us, turned back to the center, and sang:

We sang the same four lines over and over to the beat of the prayer drum, and our harmonies began to soar. Then, with the many sorts of brooms folks brought, we swept-danced the Hall clear of leaves and prepared to enjoy an amazing feast of homegrown turkey with stuffing, freshly harvested vegetables, and marvelous pumpkin-squash pies.

          As we sat together and ate, the festive food and some glasses of wine mellowed and brought us to the moment of toasts. One after the other told a story or shared a memory about an ancestor or dear friend whose life had special meaning for us, and whom we toasted with great cheer at the end of each tale. When the toasts were done, the images and energies of those who’ve gone before seemed to fill the room with their good vibrations. And then spiraled around as we sang:

December 5, in a “mixed-media” event in the Council Hall, we enjoyed performances by the Forest Children, an introduction to the meaning and significance for communities like ours of the Kwanzaa holiday, followed by homegrown entertainment from the infamous Another Way Players.

Happy Hallow-Chanu-Solsti-Christma-Kwanza-New Year (or just plain Holivillage Ecodays) to all!