When I first moved to Dancing Rabbit in 2003, winter holidays usually meant a skeleton crew of two or three sticking around while most villagers went traveling. At community supper Friday night this past week, there were only five of us to circle up, and it seemed likely to be the smallest turnout of the year for our weekly supper; yet I knew from recent events that there were a room-full of other folks around, and didn’t feel prone to any sense of loneliness for even a moment. How things do change.
The steady diet of cold weather this past week has been sobering, to say the least. After the hottest July on record and a steady drought through summer and fall, I had supposed we might be in for another mild winter like last year, and indeed it had stayed warmer than usual well into December. Now that we’ve had a week straight of getting at most a degree or two above freezing, however, I’m convinced that winter does intend to put in a good showing.
I’ve finally got my cold weather gear out and am settling into the rhythm of keeping firewood stocked and fires burning at our house and Ironweed kitchen each day. Also loving the sunny days that boost our power system and minimize the need for wood heat by firing up our greenhouses instead. My only major complaint is that ultimate frisbee isn’t very compatible with sub-freezing weather.
My family of three here has moved more and more in the past few years toward celebrating the winter solstice as the primary holiday of this time of year. We did have a lovely solstice at this dark of the year, as you may have read about last week, but we still live in both a local and a wider culture that loves Christmas. As it turned out, we had a comparable collection of gifts to open on both solstice and Christmas day, along with a number of gatherings that kept an otherwise cold, windy day as warm as could be.
Christmas Eve, which was also Kody’s birthday, Cob invited everyone over to Thistledown in the evening for a dessert potluck. Between eggnog, at least a dozen varieties of cookies and other desserts to sample, and an utterly relaxed atmosphere of talking with friends, I felt warmed through and wanted to stay all evening to hear the broadcast of lessons and carols from Cob’s old church in New York. As it turned out, though, I went home with Sara and Aurelia to get the latter to bed, and fell asleep beside the child until I awoke after midnight, regretted missing the rest of the gathering, and got myself in bed.
I hadn’t long to wait to rejoin the atmosphere again, however, as the Milkweeds had planned a potluck brunch at the Mercantile for Christmas morning. We arrived to a packed room and a luscious collection of tasty dishes to stuff ourselves with, including everything from a Sandhill venison roast to frittata, potatoes, a Norwegian specialty of creamy roast potatoes with anchovies (!) and a dessert table overflowing with temptations of all stripes. I table-hopped to visit with all, and ate three plates full before I rolled myself out the door to help a small crew move a heavy butcher block over the snow out to Ma’ikwe’s house with Dennis’s ever-handy barrel dolly. The bounty of the meal inspired me. I couldn’t resist just one more taste, and then another.
Full bellies didn’t seem to slow anybody down much, as within half an hour of the end of brunch, a good 25 or more of us from all three local communities had gathered with skates and hockey sticks for a hockey game and general skate on the new pond. Having grown up with very little exposure to hockey or ice skating, I worked up some good grumbles about my stiff skates, how uncomfortable they were, and how cold my fingers trying to lace them up in the icy wind, before finally getting out on the ice and enjoying myself thoroughly. The sun shone brilliantly, my skates warmed and unstiffened a bit, and Aurelia kept begging for one more trip around the circumference so that we were the last to leave.
Later in the afternoon I joined in more revelry over at Kim’s house at Red Earth with still another collection of friends, finally arriving home at dusk to settle in for a quiet evening of feeding the rocket stove and winding down to some welcome sleep.
Alline hosted one of the first sewing nights of winter at the Mercantile Wednesday after supper, with perhaps 10 in attendance bringing everything from quilts and afghans to general mending.
I have a rugged felted wool jacket that had been losing its buttons for a couple winters. It finally popped another recently at about the same time that another wool jacket’s zipper failed. With only one button remaining to keep it on me, and none of the important ones for keeping the biting wind out, new buttons were my first project of the evening. Mice having decided a ragged door should be chewed through its shoulder while in storage over the summer, it is no longer a town jacket, so I only sorted the replacement button candidates for size and now sport a suitably eclectic look while chopping wood and sliding from one place to another on the icy paths. Sara helped Aurelia along to her first crocheted chain, and I also managed a crocheted elbow patch for a beloved wool sweater before we all went home to our beds.
Amongst all these events, I’ve been working steadily on preparing our addition’s new earthen floors for oiling and curing, and now have two coats of raw linseed oil on all around and drying. I’ll start building Aurelia’s loft bed this week, and I believe we just might start moving in before the first week of the new year is up. Hallelujah!
As we hit the first days of 2013, I’m full of memories from another year jam-packed with construction, friends new and old, meetings, events, celebrations, and so much more. How do we fit it all in? It takes a village. I certainly couldn’t manage this much fun and fullness on my own, without a collection of friends to carry some of the load. As the new year takes shape, I’m looking toward Life After House Building, wondering if this might finally be the year I build my first treehouse. Too many possibilities to choose amongst—just have to wait and see what inspires.
May the new year bring you joy and a renewed commitment to treading lightly on this earth we share. We hope to see you here at Dancing Rabbit this year! Public tours will start again in April; meanwhile keep up with our happenings via this weekly update, by reading our blog at blog.dancingrabbit.org, and by perusing our recently updated website at www.dancingrabbit.org. Or give us a call at (660) 883-5511, and we’ll do our best to get right back to you. Happy New Year!