Toward the Winter Solstice - Timothy Steele

Although the roof is just a story high,

It dizzies me a little to look down.

I lariat-twirl the cord of Christmas lights

And cast it to the weeping birch’s crown;

A dowel into which I’ve screwed a hook

Enables me to reach, lift, drape, and twine

The cord among the boughs so that the bulbs

Will accent the tree’s elegant design.

Friends, passing home from work or shopping, pause

And call up commendations or critiques.

I make adjustments. Though a potpourri

Of Muslims, Christians, Buddhists, Jews, and Sikhs,

We all are conscious of the time of year;

We all enjoy its colorful displays

And keep some festival that mitigates

The dwindling warmth and compass of the days.

Some say that L.A. doesn’t suit the Yule,

But UPS vans now like magi make

Their present-laden rounds, while fallen leaves

Are gaily resurrected in their wake;

The desert lifts a full moon from the east

And issues a dry Santa Ana breeze,

And valets at chic restaurants will soon

Be tending flocks of cars and SUVs.

And as the neighborhoods sink into dusk

The fan palms scattered all across town stand

More calmly prominent, and this place seems

A vast oasis in the Holy Land.

This house might be a caravansary,

The tree a kind of cordial fountainhead

Of welcome, looped and decked with necklaces

And ceintures of green, yellow, blue, and red.

Some wonder if the star of Bethlehem

Occurred when Jupiter and Saturn crossed;

It’s comforting to look up from this roof

And feel that, while all changes, nothing’s lost,

To recollect that in antiquity

The winter solstice fell in Capricorn

And that, in the Orion Nebula,

From swirling gas, new stars are being born.

Sick to Death of Today's White House?

 

Me, too.

Sick to death and scared.

The drama is never ending.

I miss who I was "before."

I miss the country we were "before."

If you want to remember better days in terms of family, diplomacy, kindness, intelligence, books, music, laughter, culture, and respect, pick up The Look by Michelle Obama.

A beautiful book, but so much more.

Besides Mrs. Obama's sense of fashion, she shares the decisions she made regarding what to wear when and why.  

The Look by Michelle Obama - a personal portal to "before."

"1 NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER • Beautifully illustrated with more than 200 photographs, including never-before-seen images, The Look is a stunning journey through Michelle Obama’s style evolution, in her own words for the first time.

In this celebration of style, from the moment she entered the public eye during her husband’s U.S. Senate campaign through her time as the first Black First Lady and today as one of this country’s most influential figures, Michelle Obama shares how she uses the beauty and intrigue of fashion to draw attention to her message.

Featuring the voices of Meredith Koop, Obama’s trusted stylist, as well as her makeup artist Carl Ray, hairstylists Yene Damtew, Johnny Wright, and Njeri Radway, and many of the designers who have dressed Obama for notable events, The Look brings readers behind the scenes not only to reveal how her most memorable looks came together but also to tell a powerful story about how we present ourselves.

Obama’s intimate and candid stories illuminate how her approach to dressing has evolved throughout her life—from the colorful sheath dresses, cardigans, and brooches she wore during her time as First Lady to the bold suits, denim, and braids of her post-White House life and all the active looks and beautiful gowns in between.

In The Look, Michelle Obama explores the joy and the purpose of fashion and beauty and how—when wielded with grace and care—they can uplift and affirm the values one holds most dear. Confidence, she concludes, cannot be put on. But when you’re wearing something that’s intentional or beloved, clothing can make you feel like the best version of yourself."

Salute the Past

 All of us, ordinary everyday people, simply did our best with who we were, what we had, and what we knew at the time.

So take your hat off and salute the past.

It was time given to you freely — a most precious gift.

Respect it, have grace for it, and learn from it.

And now here we are, living in what we once called “Tomorrow” — the near future.

Time slips past us so effortlessly…

Another very precious, very brief 24 hours soon to be added to the past.

So let's build these hours into something good — even better if you can — using what was true and right, and the wisdom the past has already given you.

Roll up your sleeves.

Ready your dancing shoes, your walking and running shoes, your working shoes. And remember to kick them off once in a while and walk barefoot too, treading lightly among the roses along the way ...

Face the future with faith, courage, and hope.

It is ours — even if unpredictable.

Because life always is.

And still, we go forward ... blessed with Time in the very moment we live. 

✍️🏻By ⒸHantie|A Friend, with love.

10 October 2025

 🎨Artist | Mexican artist Oliver Flores,  "Earth and Soul"

Holiday Novels

 

I have completely immersed myself in Christmas over the past few weeks, including my reading.  It's a bit of self-care I'm in need of right now.

Not all holiday novels are my cup of tea, but here's a few I have enjoyed.

Highlands Christmas Wishes Come True by Amy Quick Parrish

• Christmas at the Little Paris Hotel by Rebecca Raisin

• 
  
  

The Christmas Inn by Pamela Kelley

• Christmas with the Knights by Hannah Langdon

• Tis The Season For Secrets by Kate Callaghan

• Holiday Hideaway A Short Story by Mary Kay Andrews

A Very Irish Christmas by Debbie Johnson

• A Home for the Holidays by Taylor Hahn

• Christmas at a Highland Castle by Rachel Barnett

• 'Tis the Damn Season by Fiona Gibson

• Christmas with the Queen by Hazel Gaynor and Heather Webb

• 
  

And now I'm off to search for another . . .

'Tis the Season!!!

My Annual Christmas Re-Read

 

There's no one reading this that doesn't already know of my love and admiration and respect for Margaret Maron.  

While rereading CORPUS CHRISTMAS I thought of Margaret and wished I could fire off a quick note to tell her how much I still love this book.

The Sigrid series wasn't the award winning better-known,  much loved series that the Deborah series was, but it did have its own faithful following.

CORPUS CHRISTMAS was the 6th in the series, but is easily read on its own.  

Don't be surprised though to find yourself seeking out the rest of this series

Description from Amazon:

"A relic of Manhattan's Gilded Age, the Erich Bruel House is home to an idiosyncratic collection of art. For over sixty years it has managed on donations from the visiting public and its dwindling trust fund. But tastes in art do change and in trying to restore the house's faded luster, its trustees propose a major retrospective for renowned artist Oscar Nauman. A festive Christmas party in Nauman's honor ends in acrimony--and next morning one of the trustees is found in a most unfestive heap at the bottom of the basement steps. Lt. Sigrid Harald had been an unwilling guest and the party and now she must return to investigate why that trustee was so universally hated. As often happens when Nauman is involved, Sigrid's professional duties are complicated by her off-duty relationships.

Corpus Christmas was first published in 1989.  The New York depicted here is very much as it is today, except—tragically—for the view of lower Manhattan that Sigrid enjoyed from the deck of a Staten Island ferry. Although loosely based on an amalgam of the National Arts Club on Gramercy Park, the Theodore Roosevelt Birthplace, and the Horace Williams House in Chapel Hill, the Breul House itself is a complete fiction."

A snowy day in Meat Camp, NC. ❤

 

"Snow was falling, so much like stars filling the dark trees that one could easily imagine, its reason for being was nothing more than prettiness."

                  - Mary Oliver  

A snowy day in Meat Camp, NC.  ❤

A husband who is not feeling well 💔 🛌

A puppy who is a wreck because her dad is not feeling well 🐶 💔

And a long letter from Sen Virginia Fox in response to a letter I sent her regarding my feelings about stuff.  

Her letter was full of misinformation, disinformation, and condescension. 

 After debating with myself for a little while trying to decide if I should respond or not and what to say if I did respond, I decided to respond but to keep it short and sweet.

  I wrote Bull Shit and hit send. 

We have power here at our house again after losing it for a few hours. 

We all need to remember, I think, that we do still have our own personal power.  

We will get through this era of hatred and corruption regardless of what we're witnessing from the supreme court, congress, the insane man in the white house and his administration.  

I have to hold on to that.  

So do you.  

I'm not necessarily suggesting you write Bull Shit to evil old members of congress, but, hey, we all just need to do what we feel the need to do right now. 

More Comfort Reading Revisited and Revised

The news is upsetting, and just gets worse by the day.  

Seeing photos from Epstein's house hit me hard and made me feel physically sick.

We have, in my opinion, cruel, inept, and insane people running this country.  

We need a break.

Look for beauty.

Plan your dream trip.

Pick up a book that will offer some comfort and a bit of a respite from the crazy hatefulness of it all.

I'm not of fan of overly sweet books.  Lifetime Movies are not my jam.

But I do love a well-written book that focuses on the good in us rather than the bad.  

Rosamunde Pilcher ticks all the right boxes for me with some of her novels, including Shell Seekers, September, Coming Home, and Winter Solstice.

It's almost that time of the ear when I reach for m well-worn copy of Winter Solstice.

 

From Amazon:

"From #1 New York Times bestselling author Rosamunde Pilcher, Winter Solstice (the basis for the TV movie) is the story of five unforgettable characters, lonely and haunted strangers who find love and loyalty as a reborn family of friends during the Christmas holidays.

Elfrida Phipps, once of London’s stage, moved to the English village of Dibton in hopes of making a new life for herself. Gradually she settled into the comfortable familiarity of village life—shopkeepers knowing her tastes, neighbors calling her by name—still she finds herself lonely.

Oscar Blundell gave up his life as a musician in order to marry Gloria. They have a beautiful daughter, Francesca, and it is only because of their little girl that Oscar views his sacrificed career as worthwhile.

Carrie returns from Austria at the end of an ill-fated affair with a married man to find her mother and sister sharing a home and squabbling endlessly. With Christmas approaching, Carrie agrees to look after her sister's awkward and quiet teenage daughter, Lucy, so that her mother might enjoy a romantic fling in America.

Sam Howard is trying to pull his life back together after his wife has left him for another. He is without home and without roots, all he has is his job. Business takes him to northern Scotland, where he falls in love with the lush, craggy landscape and set his sights on a house.

It is the strange rippling effects of a tragedy that will bring these five characters together in a large, neglected estate house near the Scottish fishing town of Creagan."

An old post revised and revisited. Christmas. It's not always for everyone. And it's okay.

I have, in the past, blogged about people who say they hate Christmas. 

I have shared my own feelings about Christmas, and about how I think people who hate it might want to consider walking away from some of the things they hate. 

This morning I received a note from an old friend who remembered a particular post and wanted to read it again, but couldn't find it.  

She remembered that it included a recipe.

Digging in the Meanderings and Muses archives I wasn't able to find it either.

No wonder!  It was one I had written some time back for Jungle Red!

Finally able to find it, I dusted it off, revised it and sent it to her.  (You're welcome, Karen!)

And then decided to share it here.

Because Christmas can be hard.

Here's my unsolicited advice.  Knowing how I feel about unsolicited advice, I completely understand if you close this window right now . . . 



If, however, you're still here . . . 



I've suggested that those who dislike Christmas consider starting their own traditions that don't include those things that they find upsetting.  

Things like the rank commercialization and the whole "too much" thing.  

When did Christmas become so much about all the "stuff?!"  

And why do children need to have 46 beezillion gifts under the tree?! 


There are years I have had to walk away from some of it.  

Some years there just hasn't been much money.  

Some years I was on my own and frankly, didn't feel there was much to celebrate.  

And sometimes, it's just too much.


Is it any wonder this time of the year is so hard for so many?  

And believe me - I do know that for many it's not simply a case of disliking Christmas and some of the commercialism.  

I know full well about Christmas depression and the seriousness of it.  

It's debilitating and scary.  

It affects many.  

And my weak little take on how to get through the holidays with a speck of sanity left is in no way meant to sound dismissive towards those who suffer what is clearly more than "Holiday Frustration."



First of all, I'm certainly not proposing anyone walk away from "all" holiday traditions.  But if there are things happening that overwhelm you or bring up bad memories, why shouldn't you toss those aside? 


Take the holiday season to teach children "your" values - not what society pushes us into.  

The season is about enjoying life and the blessings we have - don't be manipulated into doing things you don't want to do just because someone else says it's the way it should be done.  

Not all of us want a cooking/crafting bonanza kind of holiday and prefer to keep it simple.

I think many of our time honored Christmas traditions are grand.  The old fashioned ones that I grew up with.  I love 'em and they're dear to my heart.

But some years, even those are too much. 

Like decorating our home for the holidays.  I love decorating of any kind, so holidays are the perfect excuse for me to just go kinda nuts.

I'm a lousy gardener, which makes me kinda sad, so I leave the little bit of landscaping we do to Donald.

  But I can do fun "Tablescapes!" 

And Christmas Tablescapes are THE most fun!

IF I'm in the mood.


Some years, the Santas just stay in their box under the bed.

And it's okay.

Some years, Christmas makes an early arrival at our house.  I start sneaking the Santas and a few other decorations in around Thanksgiving.  

A lot of the things I use to decorate with have been with us for a very long time - and many show their age, which makes me love them all the more.  

They're ragtag and dusty, which is sorta how I feel a lot of times, so I feel a special fondness for them.

Which is also why I understand completely that there are some years they don't really want to come out and play.  

So they don't.


And it's okay. 



I love watching the lights on a Christmas tree.  Sometimes if I can't sleep, I'll just wander into the sunroom and sit in the dark watching the lights twinkle.

I enjoy our old Christmas ornaments - the ones we brought into our marriage with us, along with the ones we've picked up together on trips.  

I also like finding ridiculously silly things to hang on the tree.

But some years, if the mood isn't there for a tree - we just don't put one up.  If things are too busy and either of us is feeling a bit stressed, the last thing we want to do is add to the stress by doing something that is supposed to be fun.  

And you know, it's okay.



Another Christmas tradition I love is baking.

And I love love love baking with my mini-bundt pans.  The first round of baking has begun.

Using one of my favorite cookbooks, Bibb Jordan's "The Pound Cake Cookbook."

It's a teeny little cookbook full of the best pound cake recipes you'll find.  Fruit pound cakes, chocolate pound cakes, old-fashioned pound cakes, outrageously inspired pound cakes, a cheese savory pound cake and special miniature pound cakes.  yum.


I made several "Bittersweet & Orange Bundt-lette Pound Cakes"

And the baking was fun.  

But, same as the tree.  

There have been years when I just did not want to bake.  

It just wan't fitting in with all those other things.  

So I didn't.  

And it was okay.

My wish for each of you is for a Happy Holiday Season - whatever it is you celebrate, I hope you celebrate it in a joyous, joyful manner.  In a way that makes you and yours happy and leaves you with a feeling of grace.  May it be a holiday filled with traditions, old and new, of your choosing, and one of peace.

My wish also includes this - if you or someone you love starts feeling the pressures that many feel this time of year - the feelings of loneliness, sadness, or hopelessness - reach out.  There's no shame in asking for help. 

My gift to each of you is Bibb Jordan's scrumptious recipe for these  little mini bundts.  If my name were Santa, I would deliver some to you, but, well - it's not.  So I share this recipe along with a "Ho, Ho, Ho!"

Bittersweet & Orange Bundt-lette Pound Cakes

Makes 14 - 16 mini pound cakes

Ingredients:

Pam or Baker's Joy

1 1/2 sticks of butter (room temperature)

1/2 cup Crisco

3 cups of sugar

5 large eggs (room temperature)

3 cups of flour

1/4 teaspoon of salt

1/2 teaspoon of baking powder

1 cup of milk (room temperature)

6 ounces of bittersweet chocolate (nuggets or chopped  -  your choice)

1 Tablespoon  of finely grated orange zest

1 teaspoon of vanilla extract

1/2 teaspoon of orange extract

Directions:

Preheat oven to 325 degrees.

Spray Bundt-lette pans with Pam or Baker's Joy. (this non-stick cooking spray is needed.  The traditional method of buttering and flouring the individual molds does not work well).

Cream together the butter and Crisco on high speed until lightened in color, about 3 minutes.  Gradually add the sugar and tehn continue beating for 5 minutes.  Add the eggs, one at a time, beating well after each addition.

Whisk together the flour, salt, and baking powder.  Add 1/3 of the flour mixture to the batter, blend well, then add 1/2 cup of the milk, blending well again.  Repeat with the remaining flour and milk.

Fold in the chocolate, zest, and extracts.

Fill the Bundt-lette molds with the batter, coming to within 1/2-inch from the top.  If they're over-filled they will over-flow.

Bake at 325 degrees for about 30 minutes,or until tested done.

Note:  The Bundt-lettes may not brown on the top, but when turned out of the pan, they will be a golden color and look like miniature pound cakes.

Cool in the pan for 5 minutes, then turn out onto a rack and cool completely.

Enjoy!!!!

 

Margaret Berry speaks words straight from my very soul as I turn 77 today.

Old age, I decided, is a gift.

I am now,

probably for the first time in my life,

the person I have always wanted to be.

Oh, not my body!

I sometime despair over my body -

the wrinkles,

the baggy eyes and the sagging butt.

And often I am taken aback by that old person that lives in my mirror,

but I don't agonize over those things for long.

I would never trade my amazing friends, my wonderful life,

my loving family for less gray hair or a flatter belly.

As I've aged,

I've become more kind to myself and less critical of myself.

I've become my own friend.

I don't chide myself for eating that extra cookie,

or for not making my bed,

or for buying that silly cement gecko that I didn't need,

but looks so avante garde on my patio.

I am entitled to overeat,

to be messy,

to be extravagant.

I have seen too many dear friends leave this world too soon;

before they understood the great freedom that comes with aging.

Whose business is it if I choose to read until 4:00 am and sleep until noon?

I will dance with myself to those wonderful tunes of the 50s & 60s,

and if I,

at the same time,

wish to weep over a lost love, I will.

I will walk the beach in a swim suit that is stretched over a bulging body and will dive into the waves with abandon if I choose to,

despite the pitying glances from the bikini set.

They, too, will get old.

I know I am sometimes forgetful.

But there again,

some of life is just as well forgotten and I eventually remember the important things.

Sure, over the years my heart has been broken.

How can your heart not break when you lose a loved one,

or when a child suffers,

or when a beloved pet gets hit by a car? But broken hearts are what give us strength and understanding and compassion.

A heart never broken is pristine and sterile and will never know the joy of being imperfect.

I am so blessed to have lived long enough to have my hair turn gray and to have my youthful laughs be forever etched into deep grooves on my face. 

So many have never laughed and so many have died before their hair could turn silver.

I can say "no" and mean it.

I can say "yes" and mean it.

As you get older,

it is easier to be positive.

You care less about what other people think.

I don't question myself anymore.

I've even earned the right to be wrong.

So, to answer your question,

I like being old.

It has set me free.

I like the person I have become.

I am not going to live forever,

but while I am still here,

I will not waste time lamenting what could have been,

or worrying about what will be.

And I shall eat dessert every single day,

if I want to.

-  Margaret Berry

https://alcalde.texasexes.org/2015/07/old-age-is-a-gift/

- - -

 These words from Mário Raul de Morais Andrade resonate with me, as well

 I counted my years and found that I have less time to live from here on than I have lived up to now.

I feel like that child who won a packet of sweets: he ate the first with pleasure, but when he realized that there were few left, he began to enjoy them intensely.

I no longer have time for endless meetings where statutes, rules, procedures and internal regulations are discussed, knowing that nothing will be achieved.

I no longer have time to support the absurd people who, despite their chronological age, haven't grown up.

My time is too short:

I want the essence,

my soul is in a hurry.

I don't have many sweets

in the package anymore.

I want to live next to human people,

very human,

who know how to laugh at their mistakes,

and who are not inflated by their triumphs,

and who take on their responsibilities.

Thus human dignity is defended and we move towards truth and honesty.

It is the essential that makes life worth living.

I want to surround myself with people who know how to touch hearts, people who have been taught by the hard blows of life to grow with gentle touches of the soul.

Yes, I'm in a hurry, I'm in a hurry to live with the intensity that only maturity can give.

I don't intend to waste any of the leftover sweets.

I am sure they will be delicious, much more than what I have eaten so far.

My goal is to reach the end satisfied

and at peace with my loved ones

and my conscience.

We have two lives.

And the second begins when you realize you only have one.

                         Mário Raul de Morais Andrade

                       (Oct 9, 1893 – Feb 25, 1945)

                        Brazilian poet, novelist, musicologist, art historian and critic, photographer

Little Me

Some things never change.

I still love pretty dresses and nice jewelry.

I will often end my posts by saying

❤  Life is good  ❤

I'm not feeling that way since our most recent presidential election.

My feelings now are more in the realm of

Life is . . . precarious

As Joyce Vance reminds us in her latest column, "We live in times where courage is called for. We already see signs that some people will not be brave, that some people will obey in advance. But I take heart from the following quote, a line from the film “The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey”—that speaks forcefully to how I am feeling as we enter this holiday week: “Some believe it is only great power that can hold evil in check, but that is not what I have found. It is the small everyday deeds of ordinary folk that keep the darkness at bay. Small acts of kindness and love."

But, for today - remember to breathe

Happy Birthday to Me

Photo by Parisian Moments