When the sun came up, the fruit trees in the garden were blessed with cider (which they were kind enough to share) and honey biscuits (which the birds are currently devouring). When I'm done writing here, I'll go light the fire, and there will be a light burning until dawn tomorrow, when the days will start to grow longer, and spring will start to seem less like an old folk tale and more of a possibility.
The house is decorated with evergreen leaves & red ribbons, and there's an evening of eating, drinking & gift giving ahead. Tomorrow will be the start of a new year.
So to all you people out there, friends & strangers, whatever winter festivals you celebrate, may the coming year bring good health, more laughter than tears & love in all its forms.
Sastimos!
*At least when Azathoth & His Pennywhistle Of Chaos comes to play us to our suitably gruesome end, there will be pretty lights.
1 comment:
Aww, bad TV! You can't promise Christopher Lee & not deliver!
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