Light on the Ridge: December Opening

On Sunday, Corin and I built an Advent wreath, pinning evergreen clippings around four tall tapers. Each time we pulled a fir branch out of the pile of pine, spruce and cedar clippings, Corin exclaimed, as if recognizing an old friend, "Doug Fir!"

We lit our first Advent candle last night, watched the flame flick on just one long purple candle while the others sat dark, waiting. There is an asymmetry to this that is somehow compelling...

These days are short on light. The sun rises just a little east of south and draws a shallow arc across the valley before setting again. While the daytime skies have been a little flat and gray, the night skies have been incredible. At this time of year, I am always happy to see the return of the winter constellations; I love seeing Orion back in the sky, I love catching sight of the Pleiades (my knowledge of the star groupings is minimal, so I feel a bit like Corin yelling "Doug Fir"- any familiarity pleases me). Last night the moon, Jupiter and Venus looked close to each other, though as Tim explained to the boys, while holding several tennis balls aloft in demonstration, theirs is a closeness of perspective not a closeness of distance. All the same, the convergence was beautiful on a clear December night - and well worth tramping into the dark street for the view.

Today, the boys and my cousin, Kara, and I walked the gulch trail behind the ridge close to our house. There is something wonderful about this trail- it is just a pitch of the hill away from downtown and yet seems a completely separate, nestled world. Corin skipped ahead of us wearing his father christmas hat (with'Lindsay' written in sparkles across the fold) over top of the green stocking cap Kara knit him for his birthday. I love watching Corin move through life, still so much at ease with himself, still innocent of the self-censure that is sure to come before long. Who knows if next year he will still think wearing his mother's old Christmas cap atop another hat while skipping up the trail is a good thing to do? But for now, while it lasts, I mark it with gratitude and try to keep up as my two boys step sure-footed down the trail ahead of me.

Pictures from the gulch:
Corin in his caps