View from My Kitchen Window, WInter Solstice, 2013
It's a lot to ask, I know, to consider slowing down some today in honor of the solstice. To consider stopping even, right there in your busy tracks, and looking for the sun which may or may not be not be shinning very brightly where you are. You may have to find the solstice in the blueness of shadows, in their thinness and length. You may have to find it in the muted beauty of a bare branch. You may have to notice it in the rugged green of a leaf of kale, or in sackfuls of turnips and potatoes, or in the smell of cinnamon and ginger and cardamom.