On Winter Solstice Eve (20th December) I had a meltdown.

It had rained all morning, a deluge, heavy enough to swamp the driveway and footpath in front of our cottage. The gutters overflowed and cascaded a wall of water in front of my eyes as I peered out through the front window, trying to pierce the gloom.

A task I had been putting off, for months really, came back to haunt my vision. I needed to cut a drainage gutter across the driveway to divert the stormwater away from the front yard, and now, yet again, my procrastination was laid bare.

Not to Self: Don’t put off yard/cottage maintenance stuff, because you might have to do it in a deluge.

I decided to wait until the rain at least eased off, and turned away to do other things, when I suddenly started crying, for no apparent (at that moment) reason. Not the sort of crying where your eyes leak a little, no these were deep sobs that felt as though they might crack my ribs on their way out of my body.

I’ve had quite a few crying jags over the past year, (who among us hasn’t?) but this one laid me low.

Incoherent words of grief and rage spewed forth from my mouth and mingled with my tears, and I couldn’t stop.

I quite literally couldn’t stop. Every time I drew a breath in more sobs and roars of pain came back out.

I dragged myself into the bathroom, (the only room in the house without windows) hoping the darkness would help me find some anchor to stem the tide.

Didn’t work. I was going to have to ride this tsunami to its end.

Letting go, is never an easy thing to do for us humans. We’re conditioned from cradle to grave, to strive for control, of everything, over everything. Our bodies, our families/friends, our environment, and we equate taking action, any action, with control. Needless to say, we don’t succeed all that often. A conclusion that is almost always obscured by all that action-ing we’re so busy doing.

Anyway, I stopped actioning and returned to the window and the pouring rain, and fully released the wave.

Nothing lasts forever, (although it was beginning to feel like it) not even rib-cracking emotional meltdowns, and at last I could draw a breath and release it without sobbing.

And then, as though someone turned off a tap, the heavy rain stopped … and it started to snow. Big fat splats of snow that very quickly covered the draining stormwater in a scum of ice, then layers of snow.

Those who know me know that snow is my thing … it lasted through Winter Solstice day, through Christmas and Boxing Day, and only finished melting the day before yesterday.

It was the most perfect timing of any snowfall, ever.

My snow, my footsteps, my farewell to 2020

My snow, my footsteps, my farewell to 2020

The Solstice Tree

It starts with a corner of our tiny house, cleared for action …

As with all things I gotta have a strong foundation

As with all things I gotta have a strong foundation

Mrs Widds and I would love to have a living tree, but we have nowhere to plant it after the Season, so we ‘grow’ our very own …

OK, it’s not much but I gotta start somewhere

OK, it’s not much but I gotta start somewhere

Usually we put it up on Christmas Eve and take it down on new years day. This year the Solstice called us …

This is fun

This is fun

Each year on Christmas Day the Widder-kin would gather in our house and food and laughter and games and stories would be shared …

Ooooh, I’m feeling kinda stretch-y

Ooooh, I’m feeling kinda stretch-y

But this year we’re having our first ‘just-the-two-of-us’ Christmas since moving here to Widder Island …

EMEGHERD! Lights! I’m glowing!

EMEGHERD! Lights! I’m glowing!

Well, not quite. Around midday we’ll pack up the presents and goodie baskets (Mrs Widds bakes some mean goodies!) and trundle off to a Widder-kin house and have (more) food and laughter and games and stories there …

This is some serious light-age

This is some serious light-age

This year we have time to just potter … and call in the new year when the night is longest … (so glad to see the tail of the old one!)

I’m all shiny and sparkly for the new year

I’m all shiny and sparkly for the new year

And finish off our celebration with some rather scrumptious chocolates …

Now that you mention it, quite a few have gone missing since this picture was taken

Now that you mention it, quite a few have gone missing since this picture was taken

May the Turn of the Seasons bring you the changes you have wished for.

See you in 2017

‘Tween Times

What a luvverly break that was. The only writing I did was to comment on blogs.

Winter Solstice – food for the Spirit. Releasing the energy of the old Year to make way for all sorts of adventures in the New. Our celebration turned out to be a bit discombobulated this year because of our party preparations, but a very Sacred time none-the-less.

 Christmas – food for the tummy, (lots of food for the tummy, perhaps a tad too much food for the tummy) and all our Widder family gathered here for the first time. Our tiny house on Widder Lake had rellies (Aussie slang for ‘relatives’) up to the lintels.

I scored some great loot – a couple of outside building projects for Spring, wool, a bit of bling for the tree, weights so I can still work out even when my knees crap out on me, $$ towards a TV (we’re tired of watching DVD’s on my 17” computer screen so we’re going to take the plunge and buy one – P.S. – we ended up buying a bigger computer monitor – much better choice!)

The calendar New Year –  is just over the horizon, but not here yet. These days between Solstice/Christmas and the new year are somewhat akin to a time out of Time, a transition from one Path that had finished it’s cycle, to another, that isn’t quite ready to manifest in this Reality.

Happy New Year everyone.


These last few weeks have been challenging. I’ve had one health crisis after another. In fact it’s been this way since we moved onto Widder Island in March. Sometimes a complete change of environment will do that to a gal. That and menopause!

Because our physical, mental, emotional and spiritual bodies are so intimately connected anything that happens in any of these areas is automatically reflected in the others.

So, I’ve been contemplating my physical mortality, (eye infection, knees that have so much metal in them they clang like a cracked bell if I turn too suddenly, lumps in my thyroid that have put us into a holding pattern until a biopsy reveals what it will reveal) all the not-so-fun changes that ladies of a certain age go through, (and the accompanying emotional roller-coaster ride) and what impact all of the above have on my Spiritual path.

I’m a afternoon/evening person, so the best time for such reflections is the night. Late at night, when the noise of the world fades, and there’s space for the unknown to appear. For fears and inspiration to bleed into this mortal reality of ours.

If we’re lucky, and are courageous, we might have the vision to peer through the veil and wonder at the fierce challenges and wisdom to be found there.

I’ve listened to the wavelets borne across the surface of the water by a chilly breeze that’s the harbinger of winter. I’ve seen the ghostly white silhouettes of the trumpeter swans as they rest on our little lake on their way South.

I haven’t found any great epiphanies waiting for me when I walk down to the lake, torch in hand and thermos of tea at the ready.

I have found a little peace. Enough so that I can go to sleep with a quiet heart.


“One may not reach the dawn save by the path of the night” Germaine Greer, feminist, academic, journalist.