A Little Boy and a Lion

Once Upon a Wardrobe, Patti Callahan

It's December 1950 in Worcestershire, England. Megs Devonshire is a young woman fascinated by mathematics and facts, with not a lot of room in her world for fancies, who attends Somerville College at Oxford University. The one thing she loves more than numbers and logic is her family, especially her eight-year-old brother George, who was born with a heart condition and spends most of his life in bed. His one consolation is reading, and as the story opens, his soul is on fire from a new book he finished, The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe. Megs sees it as just another storybook, but George requests that since she attends Oxford, where C.S. Lewis teaches at a different college, she must ask him "Is Narnia real?" And if it isn't, where did it come from?

Megs, reluctant to address Lewis on campus, follows him one day to "The Kilns," the home he shares with his brother, and she is found by "Warnie" Lewis, who introduces her to his brother, who prefers to be known as "Jack." But when she asks him about Narnia, instead he starts telling her the story of his life, and while George loves the stories she brings home about "young Jack," she is continually frustrated: why won't he tell her the one thing George wants to know? But even as she tells George the stories, it awakens his creativity and curiosity, and also, with the help of a redheaded fellow student named Padraig Cavender, opens Megs' mind to the unseen mysteries of the world, the ones that can't be explained by maths and facts. In fact, it is Padraig that eventually makes George's Christmas wish come true.

Callahan works a bewitching magic in this book; her vocabulary is pitch-perfect vintage English, and she describes Oxford, the Kilns, and even the Devonshires' cozy house with such warmth that it's like walking out of the wardrobe and arriving in Narnia. It has the same warm, familiar feeling as a Beatrix Potter drawing or the passages about Mole and Ratty in The Wind in the Willows. Douglas Gresham, C.S. Lewis' stepson, has given this book a big thumbs up, as do I. Enchanting.

First Sunday of Advent

There's a rule here: no Christmas decorations before the First Sunday of Advent.

However, today all the gloves are off!

So I hit the ground running: walked the dog a mile, then put him on a leash on the grass while I took down the Thanksgiving items and put up the wreath on the door, the Santa Claus moon flag, the mailbox cover with the goofy moose on it, and the Christmas greens basket. At this point I let Tucker go inside and then started on the real work: the lights. I managed to get through this practically unscathed.

Decided I wanted to go back to the blue lights this year. Now Saturday at Lowe's I bought six strings of 100 blue lights on discount, but we still had blue lights, so I put those out instead. Thinking I should have put the Lowes lights on instead; some of these are badly faded and the blues don't even match. When I took a photo one string even looked green! Maybe I'll redo. Also put up the Christmas tree with the multicolor lights and the wreath, which has the multicolor seed lights on it. I could probably go out and get a new blue set for the tree, but I prefer the wreath in colors, and don't think I'll find them in blue anyway.

I didn't have a terrible time with the lights, but I do understand why my dad always swore while he did this!

Our neighbor Ashley came out while I was working on this, to take out little Diesel (he's some kind of Lhasa Apso or shih-tzu mix) and Nala, who's some type of Rottweiler cross, and we were chatting for a while. It was just her birthday and she'd been to Colorado as a birthday gift. They had snow and everything. She kept asking me if I needed help. Maybe I was just looking particularly decrepit this morning? I know I didn't feel decrepit; when I put up Christmas decorations I feel about fifteen (except my back didn't hurt this dang bad when I was fifteen).

A year or two ago James bought this set of four LED snowflakes that were on clearance for $7. I put them behind the three log deer as kind of a fun display. Didn't use any of the lighting effects, though; maybe will try them out later. You can twinkle and flash and make them chase, eight different effects in all.

Before dark I had also put all of the candoliers in the windows (blue lights as well; frosted for the upstairs and clear for the library downstairs), the multicolor changing bulb candle in the kitchen window, and the two flickering candles in James' "man cave." These eat up four AA batteries, but they will last through Epiphany, even though the flicker will be minimal by then!

My last step was to turn on the two flickering candles at 5:30 (they have timers and will keep them on for five hours) and put the batteries in the seed lights (this also has a timer that will turn on the same time every night and go off six hours later). And all is lit.

Also did my usual Sunday chores (towels washed, master bath cleaned, meds sorted for the week) and managed to sit and listen to some Christmas music and work on a story. It ended on a sniffle, so I think I achieved my goal. 😀

Cattern Cakes for St. Catherine's Day

St. Catherine of Alexandria was a Christian martyr who was condemned to death on a torture device called "a breaking wheel." "Catherine wheel" fireworks are named after this event, and "cattern cakes" are made in the shape of a swirl or in a spiral shape to commemorate her. The day was once widely observed and the days before and after the holiday were known as Catterntide. In medieval times, Catterntide marked the beginning of Advent.

 

St. Catherine is the patron saint of spinners, weavers, and lacemakers, and the latter used to take their annual holiday on this day.

Here's a British recipe (from "The Simple Things") for Cattern cakes:

275g (9.7oz) self-raising flour

1/2 tsp ground cinnamon

25g (.9oz) currants

50g (1.77oz) ground almonds

2 tsp caraway seeds

200g (7oz) caster ("superfine") sugar, plus extra for sprinkling

100g (3.5oz) butter, melted

1 medium egg, beaten

Sift flour and cinnamon into a large mixing bowl, then add currants, almonds, caraway seeds, and sugar.

Add the melted butter and beaten egg to form a soft dough.

Roll out on floured surface to about 2cm (3/4 inch) thick and cut out rounds with a biscuit cutter. Lay the rounds on a baking sheet lined with parchment.

Using a sharp knife, make swirls in each cake, then sprinkle on sugar.

Bake for about 10 minutes in an oven already preheated to 190C (375F) or until they are brown and slightly risen. Cool on a wire rack.

❤ French Culture: What Do the French Do on St. Catherine's Day?

 

❤ The Free Dictionary: St. Catherine's Day 

 

❤ St. Catherine and Milliners 

❤ Fish Eaters: St. Catherine

 

St. Catherine was known to be well-educated and a book lover. You can celebrate her feast by buying a book as well!

"A Thanksgiving Poem"

The sun hath shed its kindly light,
   Our harvesting is gladly o’er
Our fields have felt no killing blight,
   Our bins are filled with goodly store.

From pestilence, fire, flood, and sword
   We have been spared by thy decree,
And now with humble hearts, O Lord,
   We come to pay our thanks to thee.

We feel that had our merits been
   The measure of thy gifts to us,
We erring children, born of sin,
   Might not now be rejoicing thus.

No deed of our hath brought us grace;
   When thou were nigh our sight was dull,
We hid in trembling from thy face,
   But thou, O God, wert merciful.

Thy mighty hand o’er all the land
   Hath still been open to bestow
Those blessings which our wants demand
   From heaven, whence all blessings flow.

Thou hast, with ever watchful eye,
   Looked down on us with holy care,
And from thy storehouse in the sky
   Hast scattered plenty everywhere.

Then lift we up our songs of praise
   To thee, O Father, good and kind;
To thee we consecrate our days;
   Be thine the temple of each mind.

With incense sweet our thanks ascend;
   Before thy works our powers pall;
Though we should strive years without end,
   We could not thank thee for them all.

Paul Laurence Dunbar

"The Thanksgivings" (translated from the Iroquois)

We who are here present thank the Great Spirit that we are here to praise Him.
We thank Him that He has created men and women, and ordered that these beings 
      shall always be living to multiply the earth.
We thank Him for making the earth and giving these beings its products to live on.
We thank Him for the water that comes out of the earth and runs for our lands.
We thank Him for all the animals on the earth.
We thank Him for certain timbers that grow and have fluids coming from them for 
      us all.
We thank Him for the branches of the trees that grow shadows for our shelter.
We thank Him for the beings that come from the west, the thunder and lightning 
      that water the earth.
We thank Him for the light which we call our oldest brother, the sun that works for 
      our good.
We thank Him for all the fruits that grow on the trees and vines.
We thank Him for his goodness in making the forests, and thank all its trees.
We thank Him for the darkness that gives us rest, and for the kind Being of the 
      darkness that gives us light, the moon.
We thank Him for the bright spots in the skies that give us signs, the stars.
We give Him thanks for our supporters, who had charge of our harvests.
We give thanks that the voice of the Great Spirit can still be heard through the 
      words of Ga-ne-o-di-o.
We thank the Great Spirit that we have the privilege of this pleasant occasion.
We give thanks for the persons who can sing the Great Spirit's music, and hope 
      they will be privileged to continue in his faith.
We thank the Great Spirit for all the persons who perform the ceremonies on this 
      occasion.

Harriet Maxwell Converse

"The Harvest Moon"

It is the Harvest Moon! On gilded vanes
  And roofs of villages, on woodland crests
  And their aerial neighborhoods of nests
  Deserted, on the curtained window-panes
Of rooms where children sleep, on country lanes
  And harvest-fields, its mystic splendor rests!
  Gone are the birds that were our summer guests,
  With the last sheaves return the laboring wains!
All things are symbols: the external shows
  Of Nature have their image in the mind,
  As flowers and fruits and falling of the leaves;
The song-birds leave us at the summer's close,
  Only the empty nests are left behind,
  And pipings of the quail among the sheaves.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

"Thanksgiving"

Let us be thankful—not only because
   Since last our universal thanks were told
We have grown greater in the world’s applause,
   And fortune’s newer smiles surpass the old—

But thankful for all things that come as alms
   From out the open hand of Providence:—
The winter clouds and storms—the summer calms—
   The sleepless dread—the drowse of indolence.

Let us be thankful—thankful for the prayers
   Whose gracious answers were long, long delayed,
That they might fall upon us unawares,
   And bless us, as in greater need we prayed.

Let us be thankful for the loyal hand
   That love held out in welcome to our own,
When love and only love could understand
   The need of touches we had never known.

Let us be thankful for the longing eyes
   That gave their secret to us as they wept,
Yet in return found, with a sweet surprise,
   Love’s touch upon their lids, and, smiling, slept.

And let us, too, be thankful that the tears
   Of sorrow have not all been drained away,
That through them still, for all the coming years,
   We may look on the dead face of To-day.

James Whitcomb Riley

Christmas is Coming...The Earliest Recorded Version of "Silent Night"

Everyone knows the story of "Silent Night": the priest who wrote some verses after heading home from a call on a sick parishioner and seeing the beauty of the night, the organ wasn't working because mice chewed on the bellows; priest asks the sexton to set the verses to music—and voila, in 1818 "Silent Night" is born.

Well, that's the legend, anyway, but more convoluted is how the song got from the small Austrian town of Obendorf to the world: most tales credit it to an internationally-known singing group, the Rainiers, who carried the song out of Europe.

This is the earliest recorded version of "Silent Night," by the Haydn Quartet, I believe recorded by the Edison company. You will notice the lyrics are appreciably different from what we sing today, and I wonder if these are closer to the lyrics are closer to what was written by Gruber. It's also interesting to notice the difference in song performance techniques in that era.

The People of Christmas: St. Martin

St. Martin? Has he something to do with Christmas?

 

Well, peripherally!

 

St. Martin of Tours was originally a soldier, and it is ironic that his feast day falls on November 11, the anniversary of the Armistice that ended the first World War. Martin was a cavalryman, well mounted and well clad, but when he came upon a ragged man shivering for lack of clothing in the snow, he sliced his voluminous cloak in half and gave it to the man. That night he dreamed of Jesus wearing the half cloak and saying to a contingent of angels, "Here is Martin, the Roman soldier who is now baptized; he has clothed me." Martin converted to Christianity and later became a bishop.

 

His association with Christmas is that the preparatory season of Advent used to be forty days, the same as old Christmastide and the same as Lent, and began on his feast day, Martinmas.

 

In European countries, Martinmas marks the end of the harvest season. Livestock that had multiplied during the summer and which could not be fed during the winter was butchered and preserved by salting or smoking, and farmers would provide cakes and ale for the harvesters. Now that farm work was over, the laborers would attend Martinmas hiring fares to find positions for the winter.

 

Waterfowl are also involved in Martinmas celebrations. As at Michaelmas, a goose is usually eaten as part of the feasting. This alludes to the part of Martin's story where he did almost everything to avoid becoming a bishop, prefering to spread the gospel his own way. Martin hid in a pen of geese as a last resort, but the geese raised such a racket that he was given away. Weather forecasting is associated with the holiday, as it is on Candlemas, or, as it's known in the US, Groundhog Day. According to folklore, if Martinmas is cold and icy, the winter that follows will be milder, all through Candlemas. This is alluded to in a poem:

 

"Ice before Martinmas,

Enough to bear a duck,

The rest of winter,

Is sure to be but muck."

 

In other words, if the water is frozen over so that a duck cannot break through the ice on Martinmas, the remainder of the winter will be mild.

 

Snow on St. Martin's day is greeted with the exclamation: "Here comes St. Martin on his white horse!"

 

St. Martin of Tours 

 

Martinstag and St. Martin 

 

Historic UK: Martinmas

 

Slovenia Incognita: Martinmas 

The Tudor Society: The Feast of Martinmas

"Autumn"

Now, upon the brown earth’s breast
Fall the crimson leaves to rest;
Summer’s done—and laughing Spring—
What does gray-clad Autumn bring?
Autumn, like a gipsy bold
In her cap of red and gold!

Autumn, with her magic brush
Paints each wayside tree and bush;
Gilds the pumpkin at our feet
In the fields of yellow wheat;
Bids the wild duck homeward fly
Through the quiet, hazy sky;
Gaily through the orchard goes;
Tints the apple’s cheek with rose;
And with pleasant fruits and grain
Cheers the waiting world again.
There is loveliness sublime
In the earth at Autumn time—
Autumn, like a gipsy bold
In her cap of red and gold!

Edith D. Osborne, "St. Nicholas" magazine, October 1924