A Yule Tale 2013
This year's festive contribution stems from reading about the Mongolian Winter Solstice: deeply spiritual, community orientated and amply catered. Ice In The Evergreen Leaves have dropped from the birch trees. Silver bark shines against bare dark earth for a while; then the black streaks are stark against a backdrop of snow. We are no strangers to cold here. This is autumn snow. Our winter starts at the solstice point, spans nine lengths of nine days, drops into chill; like a body without a heartbeat, Grandmother says. 'Maybe this year the earth will stay dead.' She says this every year. I think she believes it. I love the ice on the evergreens, where the sun touches, that's my glimmer of hope. 'Fetching the water for Grandmother, Monkh?' 'Yes, Vachir. Is winter close? It feels close.' Vachir laughs. 'How thick was the ice?' I hold out a finger, horizontal, to show him. He nods. '