Markings: Days of Her Life

Holidailies 10! http://www.silkentent.com/Trees/?p=634

http://www.silkentent.com/Trees/?p=620
Today is Saint Lucy’s Day, the traditional entrance into the Christmas season in Sweden. I am baking the cardamom rolls that the oldest daughter, or, in some explanations, the youngest daughter, or, in still other versions of the custom, the prettiest daughter, serves her parents on the morning of the festival. She wears a white gown tied with a red sash and on her head a crown of whortleberry twigs with five (or seven, or nine) lighted candles.

http://www.silkentent.com/Trees/?p=602

Excerpt: "This is a season for remembering people who have passed through our lives, some of whom would never guess that we would think about them. I was a teacher for thirty years so I have maybe more than the usual quota of people with whom I interacted daily, and who then left without a word of farewell."

http://www.silkentent.com/Trees/?p=589
That Christmas season of 1964 my own practice was almost entirely an exercise in family and cultural ritual rather than an expression of an inner spirituality. Both in my home and in my Catholic school, the season was a jumble of the sacred and the secular, a jolly mix of jingle bells and Jesus. I bought the cards because I had $2.00 to spend and because I liked the poem and the painting.

http://www.silkentent.com/Trees/?p=572
Until a moment ago, this post was called “Stuck.” The only epigraph I could think of is from Paul Simon: “I’m empty and aching and I don’t know why.” . . .Therefore, an excerpt from a 2006 post. Here are poinsettias again. Thank you for reading so much, so often.