The family has gathered for Candlemas, the holiday which marks the middle of Winter. Groundhogs promise to show themselves in the morning and our moon lingers just a single night’s sliver short of full. My sister has joined us in our three rivered mountain tower apartment.
Twenty some candles, all handmade by our little family, burn between the walls, the foresty calming walls of the living room and the jump out of bed bright yellow of the kitchen, either room the same as the other really, and they flicker as the sun goes down.
Candlemas officially begins as the streetlights replace the glow coming into our windows formerly provided by the sun. Man can replicate the sun for many intents and even more purposes, but no one seems to think of it that way.
Buttershots and hot cocoa mix together nicely, swirling steam through the air to mix with hot tomato soup and some avo, tomato, bread concoction. Everyone is feeling good and the world, for our part, seems perfectly contented.
Up Next: Candlemassing