Matariki Lights

Photo by Klemen Vrankar on Unsplash

On the eve of Matariki, I woke to an empty house, which meant I didn’t have to tiptoe around being quiet until my husband woke. 

The morning being dark and cold, I decided to start the day with music, and because we’re so close to Matariki and the promise of longer days to come, I searched up music with the word light in the title.

So my day started with Phil Collins’ song, Dance Into the Light, Lorde singing Green Light, Light (My Time Has Come) by Madison Ryann Ward, Nu Aspect’s Light, and One More Light by Linkin Park.

What a great way to start the day, to start the new year, to celebrate all that has passed and all that is to come.

Whatever your plans for celebrating Matariki this weekend, I hope it is full of the light cast by people you love and things that make you happy. 

And as I look forward to the coming growing season, the challenges and opportunities that the coming year has in store, I’m going to try to inject more music into my mornings.

So come on, dance into the light with me. Here’s a little poem I scribbled down on the solstice—it’s equally pertinent for Matariki.

On the darkest day
We turn to the light,
Hope for a ray to warm our cheek.

On the darkest day
We look to the stars,
Imagine constellations
To guide our stumbling steps.

On the darkest day
We light a fire,
Praying the kindling
Is still dry.

On the darkest day
We gather our whānau,
Tell stories of sunlight.

On the darkest day
We find comfort in the night,
In the slow circle of the seasons,
The dance of faraway suns
Across a black sky.

On the darkest day
We recall deeds of light,
Sun-dappled paths,
And warm sand.

On the darkest day,
Even on the darkest day
There is light.

A Warm Winter Solstice

The winter solstice passed this week, cold and rainy. It was also the anniversary of moving into our new house. It was truly a delight not to endure the run-up to the solstice in an unheated, uninsulated shed. To have a warm, dry place to eat and sleep; to have electricity and plumbing—what a luxury!

8 am with the sun barely rising …

Indeed, I still sort of feel I’m living in someone else’s house. Until a year ago, my husband and I had never owned a house less than a hundred years old. Then suddenly we had square corners and level floors. We had double glazing and insulation. We had doors that opened and closed properly, walls without fifty coats of paint, and not a speck of rot anywhere.

It was a bit of a shock.

And now I wonder if I’m going soft. I don’t wake up to a freezing house and have to light the fire. I don’t worry that the roof will leak every time it rains. I don’t have to venture to the attic to empty and re-set the rat traps. I don’t wake wondering if today is the day the water heater, septic system, or well pump is going to die.

Sometimes I miss the character of an old house—a house that is old enough to have a life of its own, a house that tells stories. Sometimes I feel guilty—a new house is such an unnecessary luxury.

But truth is, modern life is pretty good, especially in the cold, rainy days around the winter solstice. So for the moment, I’ll simply be thankful for all those luxuries that make the dark days brighter.

Here Comes the Sun

After weeks of grey, unending drizzle, we’re finally seeing a bit of sun. Mushrooms abound in the yard, revelling in the dank mist we’ve been swimming through for a fortnight. We are all eagerly awaiting passing of the solstice and the lengthening of the days.

Though it is still pretty dark and drear, and the days will still be short for some time, there are signs of the spring to come.

Lambing has started. This is the time of year when the neighbours grow noisy, with lambs and ewes calling to one another day and night.

The preying mantids are gone, but their egg cases are dotted around the yard, promising a healthy population of my favourite predators come spring.

The daffodils and snowdrops are coming up, and I’ve even seen them blooming in other people’s yards.

And tomorrow is the solstice. Friday, the sun will remain above the horizon fractionally longer than it did the previous day. We’ll be on the upswing.

Light in the Night

2016-02-24 20.57.32Last night was the longest night of the year. It’s fitting that we all overslept this morning. Everyone left for work and school in the dark, and will come home in the dark. To add to the dark of this winter solstice, the day is overcast.

But all is not black and bleak.

Yesterday, we saw the first of this year’s lambs bouncing around in the neighbour’s paddock.

The young blackbirds and magpies are already singing and vying for territories.

The breeze is from the north today, soft and gentle.

And from here, the days will only get longer.

At the bottom of the well, there is only one way to go.

So we’ll enjoy the sun while it lasts, light the table with candles this evening, and look forward to our slow climb toward spring.

A happy solstice to you, whichever one you are enjoying today.