January 2008

From Ghosties and Ghoulies
And Long-Leggedy Beasties,
And Thyngs That Go Bump in the Nyght:
Goode Lord Deliver Us.
--Traditional Scottish Prayer

Life is returning to normal, up on the hill. The Christmas decorations come down on Epiphany, the day, according to the liturgical calendar, that the Magi reached Bethlehem. Celebrated on January 6th, Epiphany is also the end of the 12 Days of Christmas, so a fitting time to put away the garlands and lights. In fact, since Medieval times, it’s been considered bad luck in Britain to let the holly and mistletoe linger inside after Twelfth Night. According to even older Celtic tradition, the evergreens’ power to keep the winter spirits away was strongest on December 21st, the winter solstice, and waned throughout the following days. By January 6th, the end of Samhain--the Celts’ harvest festival--the plants’ power was spent.

So, away with the decorations! The house looks as bare as the gardens, once all the holiday greens come down from the mantles, but it’s a refreshing kind of bareness. And it feels good to polish wood that’s been hidden under evergreen boughs, to get the Advent Wreath off the breakfast table, and to empty the refrigerator of egg nog and left-over party food. The dog is relieved that her nemesis, the vacuum cleaner, stops making daily appearances to suck up all the stray pine needles.

Outside, we wait for a mild day, so we can get out and trim some of the woody perennials. The two gigantic euonymus in front of the bay windows were planted the spring after the house was finished, in 1941. No matter how diligent we are about cutting them back so they don’t swallow all the morning light pouring into the living and dining rooms, by autumn the ancient shrubs are five feet high again. With a 60-year head start on us, there’s no containing their growth.

D wonders aloud what all the trees and shrubs we’ve added to the landscape will look like in 60 years. Who will be complaining and cutting them back on some sunny winter day as the 22nd century approaches? How tall will the viburnums and dogwoods be? Will any neighboring houses be visible through the thicket? Will branches from the Colorado Blue Spruce and China Girl Holly be used to protect and decorate the house for that far-future Christmas? Gardening forces these sorts of questions—it is, as so many have said, the ultimate act of faith to plant a tree, knowing that its limbs will shade a future generation, not, perhaps, oneself. Still, it is an act of faith that we enjoy, and on this brisk January afternoon, we make our rounds, checking each sapling and twig for signs of next spring’s growth.

Maybe it’s the stripped-down look of the house and garden, or maybe the fusion of all those primordial mid-winter customs is somehow encoded in our DNA, but whatever the reason, it feels good and somehow right to be starting the new year unencumbered. The Druids and early Church fathers knew that the rich excess of the holidays comes at just the right time. The long, cold nights demand an extra dose of goodwill and cheer to keep us afloat. But already we can feel that the corner has been turned; the sun appears earlier and lingers longer each day. Although there are weeks of winter ahead, the glow of candles and sound of carols have once again pulled us along through the darkest part of the calendar. The mysterious properties of pine and holly and mistletoe have indeed worked their magic in keeping away for another year those “ghosties and ghoulies and long-leggedy beasties, and things that go bump in the night.” And we find ourselves ready to face the coming year’s offerings renewed and refreshed, our load somehow lightened.