Imbolc

Today is Groundhog Day, my brother's birthday, the 128th birthday of James Joyce, and Candlemas Day -- a good day for taking down the Christmas greens if you haven't done so already. As the old 17thC poem goes:

Down with the rosemary, and so
Down with the bays and mistletoe;
Down with the holly, ivy, all,
Wherewith ye dress'd the Christmas Hall . . .

Down with the rosemary and bays,
Down with the misletoe . . .
Thus times do shift: each thing its turn does hold;
New things succeed, as former things grow old.

from "Ceremony Upon Candlemas Eve"
and "Ceremonies For Candlemas Eve"
both by Robert Herrick
English Poet (1591–1674)
Following Herrick's advice, I removed all the pine roping from the porches yesterday and dismantled the big tree. Sad, but it had to be done. Just like the poem a few weeks ago:

"an hour on the stepladder . . .
woman's work . . .
The sunlight brave and January thin"
"Untrimming the Tree"
by John N. Morris (1931 - 1997)
American author and educator
Today is not only Candlemas but also Imbolc, the Cross - Quarter Day that falls half-way between the Winter Solstice and the Vernal Equinox, a time of clear vision into other worlds and festivals of purification.

I recall a day back in college when my professor, Jim Thomas read "Ode to the West Wind" aloud to the class, concluding with his own cynical answer to the hopeful romanticism of the poem's closing question:

"If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?"

"Yes, Shelley, Yes!" he thundered. "It can be a long way behind!"

Well, whatever the Groundhog decides today, we're halfway!

The Greens: Their Time Past

". . . above the pictures the living green . . . "
Rosemary and holly, from our yard, atop
a 1974 blueprint of our 1890s house in Indiana,
along with some old scraps of wallpaper that we
discovered under the surface when repainting in 2010.

"How is it . . . that a piece of paper -- a letter, a photo, a ticket stub, a sketch, a painting - is suddenly transformed by placing it in four bits of wood beneath a pane of glass? What does it mean that we place permanent boundaries around transient moments? What does it say of humankind that we take such trouble to freeze specific memories, that we devote such energy to capturing and preserving the 'minute particulars' of our lives?" (p 128)

from Theo of Golden
by Allen Levi

******************

Burning the Christmas Greens
[on February 2nd]

Their time past, pulled down
cracked and flung to the fire
—go up in a roar

All recognition lost, burnt clean
clean in the flame, the green
dispersed, a living red,
flame red, red as blood wakes
on the ash—

and ebbs to a steady burning
the rekindled bed become
a landscape of flame

At the winter’s midnight
we went to the trees, the coarse
holly, the balsam and
the hemlock for their green

At the thick of the dark
the moment of the cold’s
deepest plunge we brought branches
cut from the green trees

to fill our need, and over
doorways, about paper Christmas
bells covered with tinfoil
and fastened by red ribbons

we stuck the green prongs
in the windows hung
woven wreaths and above pictures
the living green. On the

mantle we built a green forest
and among those hemlock
sprays put a herd of small
white deer as if they

were walking there. All this!
and it seemed gentle and good
to us. Their time past,
relief! The room bare. We

stuffed the dead grate
with them upon the half burnt out
log's smouldering eye, opening
red and closing under them

and we stood there looking down.
Green is a solace
a promise of peace, a fort
against the cold (though we

did not say so) a challenge
above the snow's
hard shell. Green (we might
have said) that, where

small birds hide and dodge
and lift their plaintive
rallying cries, blocks for them
and knocks down

the unseeing bullets of
the storm. Green spruce boughs
pulled down by a weight of
snow—Transformed!

Violence leaped and appeared.
Recreant! roared to life
as the flame rose through and
our eyes recoiled from it.

In the jagged flames green
to red, instant and alive. Green!
those sure abutments . . . Gone!
lost to mind

and quick in the contracting
tunnel of the grate
appeared a world! Black
mountains, black and red—as

yet uncolored—and ash white,
an infant landscape of shimmering
ash and flame and we, in
that instant, lost,

breathless to be witnesses,
as if we stood
ourselves refreshed among
the shining fauna of that fire.

By William Carlos Williams (1883 – 1963)

Old Woman and Boy with Candles (c. 1616 - 1617)
by Peter Paul Rubens (1577 – 1640)

******************

Willams advice of taking down
the Christmas greens today echoes that of
17th C poet Robert Herrick
English Poet (1591–1674)

Down with the rosemary, and so
Down with the bays and mistletoe;
Down with the holly, ivy, all,
Wherewith ye dress'd the Christmas hall;

That so the superstitious find
No one least branch there left behind;
For look, how many leaves there be
Neglected there, maids, trust to me,
So many goblins you shall see.

Down with the rosemary and bays,
Down with the misletoe . . .
Thus times do shift: each thing its turn does hold;
New things succeed, as former things grow old.

excerpts from "Ceremony Upon Candlemas Eve"
and "Ceremonies For Candlemas Eve"

******************

Groundhog Day Review
On February 1 / 2, we move from Yule to Imbolc [aka Candlemas; Groundhog Day] the Cross - Quarter Day that falls half-way between the Winter Solstice and the Vernal Equinox, a time of clear vision into other worlds and festivals of purification, including St. Brigid's Day.
2010 ~ Imbolc

2011 ~ Prognosticator's Dilemma

2012 ~ Candlemas Eve

2013 ~ Dave

2014 ~ Behold the Boy

2015 ~ Happy Both

2017 ~ Dark Days

2017 ~ Incredible and Amazing

2018 ~ The Least Important Day

2019 ~ Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!

2020 ~ An Irish Lament

2021 ~ Clearer Vision

2022 ~ Snowy Snowy Night

2024 ~ Real Live Groundhog

2025 ~ Wintry Synchronicity & Imbolc Angel
Facebook & Letting Go

2026 ~ The Greens: Their Time Past

P.S.

Today is also my brother's birthday,
and the 144th birthday of James Joyce

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!

The Holy Family is like me --
they don't want to take down their Christmas decorations yet!

And I don't want to put away The Nativity Scene
or take down any of the trees.

But, hey, Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, it's time!
It's Candlemas ~ the Fortieth Day of Chistmas!

Nativity Scene Puzzle ~ 1975
Everyone in my family was already too old
for a 100 - piece kids' jigsaw, but I saw this at the
Hallmark store & thought it would make a fun family present.

Previous Candlemas Posts
Also Groundhog Day & Imbolc & James Joyce's Birthday

Candlemas Eve

One of my favorite things is growing the rosemary all year long,
then bringing it in to decorate the house at Christmas . . .


and making miniature wreaths . . .


and at last, taking it all down again . . .

"Down with the rosemary . . .

[ . . .it's time . . . ]

To re-adorn the house.
Thus times do shift; each thing its turn does hold ;
New things succeed, as former things grow old."

from "Ceremonies for Candlemas Eve"
by Robert Herrick
English Poet(1591–1674)
For more on the significance of February 2nd,
see my Imbolc post from a couple of years ago
and my Groundhog Day post from last year.

Behold the Boy

Mystical Groundhog Day photography by Nancy Allen

Happy Birthday James Joyce
2 February 1882 – 13 January 1941
James Joyce (and my brother Dave) both share the honor of arriving on the cross - quarter day known as Imbolc, the half - way point between the Winter Solstice and the Vernal Equinox (which accounts for cultural observations such as Groundhog Day and Candlemas).

So many poems and passages are appropriate for this day, but my favorite has to be the bittersweet poem that Joyce wrote in 1932, shortly after the death of his father, John Stanislaus Joyce, on 29 December 1931, and the birth of his grandson, Stephen James Joyce, on 16 February 1932:

Ecce Puer

Of the dark past
A child is born;
With joy and grief
My heart is torn.

Calm in his cradle
The living lies.
May love and mercy
Unclose his eyes!

Young life is breathed
On the glass;
The world that was not
Comes to pass.

A child is sleeping:
An old man gone.
O, father forsaken,
Forgive your son!

James Joyce

Happy Groundhog Day Birthday Greetings
to my brother Dave Carriker;
to the master, James Joyce; and belatedly to

Carl Sandburg, a child of Epiphany
6 January 1878 - 22 July 1967
Whereas James Joyce was born on Candlemas Day, Carl Sandburg had the distinction of arriving on the Epiphany (celebrating the Feast of the Three Kings, immediately following the Twelfth Day of Christmas).

Sandburg's birthday poem "Harsk, Harsk," captures the almost eerie joy of entering the world on an auspicious date in a whirl of snow. I nearly posted this poem last month, on Sandburg's actual birthday, along with his Epiphany poem "Star Silver," but in the spirit of a poem for every poem, I saved it for today.

Harsk, Harsk

1
Harsk, harsk, the wind blows tonight.
What a night for a baby to come into the world!
What a night for a melodrama baby to come
And the father wondering
And the mother wondering
What the years will bring on their stork feet
Till a year when this very baby might be saying
On some storm night when a melodrama baby is born:

"What a night
for a baby
to come into the world!!"
Harsk, harsk, the wind blows tonight.

2.
It is five months off.
Knit, stitch, and hemstitch.
Sheets, bags, towels, these are the offerings.
When he is older -- or she is a big girl --
There may be flowers or ribbons or money
For birthday offerings. Now, however,
We must remember it is a naked stranger
Coming to us, and the sheath of the arrival
Is so soft we must be ready, and soft too.
Knit, stitch, hemstitch, it is only five months.

3.
It would be easy to pick a lucky star for this baby
If a choice of two stars lay before our eyes,
One a pearl gold star and one pearl silver,
And the offer of a chance to pick a lucky star.

4.
When the high hour comes
Let there be a light flurry of snow,
A little zigzag of white spots
Against the gray roofs.
The snow - born all understand this as a luck - wish.

Carl Sandburg

Thanks once again to my perceptive sister - in - law - in - law
Nancy Allen for sharing her photographic talents!

Real Live Groundhog

True Story: This afternoon,
Gerry and I saw an actual real live groundhog,
hanging out on the roadside near our house
-- on Groundhog Day! What’s the odds?
To tell the truth, the poor thing looked terrified,
as if he’d like to run away and hide for the entirety of 2024!
Who can blame him?

We drove by too quickly for a photograph,
so I borrowed this very similar one from the internet.

Groundhog Day Repeats

2010 ~ Imbolc

2011 ~ Prognosticator's Dilemma

2012 ~ Candlemas Eve

2013 ~ Dave

2014 ~ Behold the Boy

2015 ~ Happy Both

2017 ~ Dark Days

2017 ~ Incredible and Amazing

2018 ~ The Least Important Day

2019 ~ Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!

2020 ~ An Irish Lament

2021 ~ Clearer Vision

2022 ~ Snowy Snowy Night

2024 ~ Real Live Groundhog

2025 ~ Wintry Synchronicity & Imbolc Angel
Facebook & Letting Go

2026 ~ The Greens: Their Time Past

And
Two Beautiful Songs
For My Brother Dave's B'day

"Carmina Valles" ~ Nigel Hess
Theme from the BBC Series Summer's Lease

&

"Cerf-Volant" ~ "The Kite"
Theme from the movie Les Choristes

More beautiful movie themes

Imbolc Angel

Painting ~ uncredited Victoriana

" . . . a little touch of Eternity . . .
a mixing of this world and the next . . . "
~ Evelyn Underhill ~

On February 1 / 2, we move from Yule to Imbolc [aka Candlemas; Groundhog Day] the Cross - Quarter Day that falls half-way between the Winter Solstice and the Vernal Equinox, a time of clear vision into other worlds and festivals of purification.

Yes, we could use some visions right about now!

"The word of the Goddess was rare in those days;
visions were not widespread."
I Samuel 3:1
[slightly modified]*

*I just have to jump in and edit sometimes,
especially when I come across a question such as this:

"Has it occurred to you that I may never
want to refer to God by the feminine pronoun?"
~ Sarah Condon, in Churchy, 106 ~

Uh, has it occurred to you that I may never
want to refer to God by the masculine pronoun?
We've already suffered through centuries of exclusion.
One way or another, if I can, I'm going to fix it.

**************
On the other hand,
this one
worked for me.
[And Small Sweet Tangible Things]

An Irish Lament

One day, when Gerry and I decide to buy a castle . . .

Maynooth Castle in 1885

********************

In honor and memory of James Augustine Aloysius Joyce
born this day 138 years ago in Rathgar, Ireland
~ 2 February 1882 ~

Not forgetting
Candlemas, Imbolc, Groundhog Day, St. Brigid's Day,
and the birth of my oldest brother Dave in 1947!

Beautiful recipes for all feasts & seasons

********************

A dramatic recitation of this poem, is included in The Dead,
a movie based on the final story in Joyce's Dubliners:
Donal Og [Young Donald]

It is late last night the dog was speaking of you;
the snipe was speaking of you in her deep marsh.
It is you are the lonely bird through the woods;
and that you may be without a mate until you find me.

You promised me, and you said a lie to me,
that you would be before me where the sheep are flocked;
I gave a whistle and three hundred cries to you,
and I found nothing there but a bleating lamb.

You promised me a thing that was hard for you,
a ship of gold under a silver mast;
twelve towns with a market in all of them,
and a fine white court by the side of the sea.

You promised me a thing that is not possible,
that you would give me gloves of the skin of a fish;
that you would give me shoes of the skin of a bird;
and a suit of the dearest silk in Ireland.

When I go by myself to the Well of Loneliness,
I sit down and I go through my trouble;
when I see the world and do not see my boy,
he that has an amber shade in his hair.

It was on that Sunday I gave my love to you;
the Sunday that is last before Easter Sunday.
And myself on my knees reading the Passion;
and my two eyes giving love to you for ever.

My mother said to me not to be talking with you today,
or tomorrow, or on the Sunday;
it was a bad time she took for telling me that;
it was shutting the door after the house was robbed.

My heart is as black as the blackness of the sloe,
or as the black coal that is on the smith’s forge;
or as the sole of a shoe left in white halls;
it was you that put that darkness over my life.

You have taken the east from me; you have taken the west from me;
you have taken what is before me and what is behind me;
you have taken the moon, you have taken the sun from me;
and my fear is great that you have taken God from me!

Translated from an anonymous 8th Century Irish poem
by Isabella Augusta, Lady Gregory (March 1852 – May 1932)

Sung in Irish
See also: ArcPoetryMagazine

Incredible & Amazing

Happy 28th Anniversary . . .

. . . to this stylish tree top couple!*

And a romantic Candlemas to all!

Storypeople ~ Brian Andreas
♥
*Before going on our treetop,
they were on our wedding cake!

Letting Go For Lent

Putting Things Away

But you can leave the bowl out!
It's a Bowl for All Seasons

Taking Down the Tree

Looks like Aidan is diving into the tree!
He's actually getting a closer look with his special glasses!

Rosemary for Remembrance

For all Feasts & Seasons

Tossing out the Dried Basil

As my friend Ed said,
"I think you leave the rushes on the floor
until Rogation Day." Haha!

As for putting things away, I knew that Candlemas / Groundhog Day would be too soon; so I changed my goal to Superbowl Sunday. After all, if the football season can last until mid-February, so can the Christmas Tree Season! The big day came and went, yet the tree remained! Then the snow came! I told Gerry that as long as we keep getting snow, I'm keeping the Christmas tree up another week. He said, "the tree staying up is causing the snow!" Could it be? Some kind of reverse weather magic!

Then came Mardi Gras -- upcoming frivolity but also impending reality. Although I am convinced that even the angels love it when we leave our trees up, I knew it was time. At last, on Ash Wednesday, with Gerry's help and and emotional support, I took down the tree and put away every Christmas decoration. As in previous years -- giving up Christmas was my Lenten sacrifice. Over and done with.

It is now Lent --
time to let go of something.
You decide what.

Something fun to read / watch:

Near the end of Bad Monkey, the main character Andrew Yancy / Vince Vaughn has a reckoning with death during which he hears the voices of all his friends and colleagues who have urged him, within the complicated course of the narrative, to "let it go!" Although it goes against his tenacious nature, he quickly comes to accept that "letting go" is what he must do in order to save his own life -- a very serious take-away from an otherwise lighthearted story.