Winter Solstice

December 21, 2022

The photo above was taken on the morning of the solstice with the first rays of the sun blessing the last quilt of the Wheel of the Year series.

I truly love this time of year, but it’s also hard. We’ve been falling into the darkness for a few months. If nature is a guide for this time, it’s telling us to turn inward, let go, and grieve. Most of the plants have died back, animals have left or are hunkering down for the cold season. Winter is a time we must endure. But there’s hope, too. Perennial plants aren’t actually dead, just sleeping and reserving their energy underground. Annual plants have died, but their progeny are strewn about the ground waiting for the right time to start their growth cycle. Evergreens are still with us, still green and vital. And just when it seems like the Sun will keep going away from us, he pauses — the Latin roots of “solstice” meaning “sun stands still.” And lucky for us, this marks the turning point where the Sun starts coming back our way.

There are so many rituals for this time of year that help remind of hope and the dark, particularly if your ancestors hailed from the Northern Hemisphere. I've been laying low this year, but I did manage to make a modest evergreen wreath for my house - a circle of evergreens to symbolize the cyclical experience of time and the persistence of life. Even though I didn't do it this year, I also love the ritual of decorating trees. The history is hard to pin down, but surely it's ancient, it's pagan, and it gives me hope that culture and connection to ancestors can endure centuries of disaster and violence.

If you’re looking for some inspiration or stories to get you through this time, I recommend looking up the Greek myth of Persephone and listening to Danica Boyce’s Fair Folk podcast. Danica is a scholar of medieval European history and is so thoughtful about how traditions from that time are relevant to us now.

I’ll tell you a secret. This quilt was actually the first one that I started, and it was the catalyst for the Wheel of the Year project. I stitched the central star image around the Winter Solstice last year, thinking “what does Winter look like?” And then ideas for the other solar festivals began to flow from there. I set this little star piece aside, and began working on the other quilts.

After finishing the Samhain quilt, I returned to this little star — it’s made from a salvage linen doily and old bed sheets dyed with walnut hulls and indigo (very pale — I think it was dipped in the vat very haphazardly, but I like the results).

I’ve kept up my practice of tying opposing solar festival quilts together (i.e. Spring & Fall Equinox have designs that ‘speak to each other.’) This Winter Solstice quilt speaks to its Summer Solstice sibling with the central medallion design surrounded by a contrasting checkerboard pattern. Color was important to me here, too. Pale, cold colors - earthy brown and cold slate/stone - and the welcome warm reds of berries and hearth coals. It’s not quite ‘done.’ I want to completely fill it up with stitches, but I’m not going to make y’all wait for that.

This might be my favorite y’all. This one and the Imbolc quilt. There’s something about the muted colors and the scrappy construction that feels like it’s ‘mine.’ It makes me feel very excited to continue.

This is the end of the Wheel of the Year project. In line with the themes of the Winter Solstice, I’m feeling a little mournful, but also hopeful. I’m starting to dream of the possibilities of the year ahead. While I won’t be making any quilts for the solar holidays, I may still continue to send out newsletters. Just to say ‘hello,’ share thoughts and resources...

I’m so grateful to everyone who has followed along with this newsletter and project over the past year. Thank you! And I wish you all sweet solstice dreams and a warm, cozy Yuletide.