New Year's Bonfire Time!

It's time for our annual New Year's bonfire! We invite you to send your troubles to be burned in our fire. Cleansing by fire is an ancient ritual, and while we don't burn all our belongings like some used to do, we do write down our troubles and burn them in the fire.

So if you have something you need burned, just send me a message and I'll be sure it gets in the fire.No need to tell me what the troubles are, just write BURN THIS and it shall be done. Send emails to susannaholstein@yahoo.com, or find me on Facebook and drop me a message there. Or you can simply add your BURN THIS message as a comment to this message.

and...gone!

Wishing you the very best to all of you in the coming year. May your troubles be light, your hopes and dreams bright, and every day filled with love, laughter and joy.



Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.

Merry Christmas!

Good Christmas to all my blog friends! Today I'm sharing some poems of the season, from older times and older ways. Enjoy!

Some say that ever 'gainst that season comesWherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated,The bird of dawning singeth all night long;And then, they say, no spirit dares stir abroad;The nights are wholesome, then no planets strike,No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm,So hallowed and so gracious is the time.

Shakespeare.

CEREMONIES FOR CHRISTMAS.

Come, bring with a noise,My merry, merry boys,The Christmas-log to the firing,While my good dame, sheBids ye all be free,And drink to your heart's desiring.

With the last year's brandLight the new block, and,For good success in his spending,On your psalteries play,That sweet luck mayCome while the log is a-tending.

Drink now the strong beer,Cut the white loaf here,The while the meat is a-shredding;For the rare mince-pieAnd the plums stand by,To fill the paste that's a-kneading.

Robert Herrick.

It Brings Good Cheer.

"You may talk of Country Christmasses,

Their thirty pound butter'd eggs, their pies of carps' tongues;

Their pheasants drench'd with ambergris; the carcasses of three

fat wethers bruised for gravy to make sauce for a single peacock!"

Massinger.

THRICE WELCOME!

Now thrice welcome, Christmas,Which brings us good cheer,Minced-pies and plum porridge,Good ale and strong beer;With pig, goose, and capon,The best that may be,So well doth the weatherAnd our stomachs agree.

AN OLD ENGLISH CHRISTMAS-TIDE.

Thrice holy ring, afar and wide,The merry bells this Christmas-tide;Afar and wide, through hushed snow,From ivied minster-portico,Sweet anthems swell to tell the taleOf that young babe the shepherds hailSitting amid their nibbling flocksWhat time the Hallelujah shocksThe drowsy earth, and CherubimBreak through the heaven with harp and hymn.

****************************Kindle the Christmas brand, and thenTill sunset let it burn,Which quenched, then lay it up againTill Christmas next return.

Part must be kept, wherewith to teendThe Christmas log next year,And where 'tis safely kept, the fiendCan do no mischief there.

Robert Herrick.

GOOD-NIGHT.

Good-night, good-night, the day is done;Rock, rock the cradle, little one;The lamp is low, and low the sun,Good-night!

Good-night, good-night, the Christmas boughBends to the rocking wind, and thouTo mother's ditty noddest now,Good-night!

Good-night, good-night, the holy dayBring baby sweets, and sweets alway!Rock, rock—then, tiptoe, steal away,Good-night!

H. S. M.

Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.

OLD DECEMBER

by Benjamin F. Leggett

  (photos taken during a December snow in 2010)

With snowy locks December stands

'Mid sleet and storm; his wasted hands

A frosty scepter grasp and hold;

His frame is bent, his limbs are old;

His bearded lips are iced and pale;

He shivers in the winter gale.

Come then, O day of warm heart-cheer,

Make glad the waste and waning year,

While old December shivering goes

To rest beneath the drifted snows!

Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.

The Yule Log

It's almost time to start the Christmas fire and if you know the old traditions, you'll have saved a bit of log from last year to start your fire this season.

Cutting an burning a special log during the Solstice/Christmas season dates back to pagan times, when the return of light was celebrated with merrymaking, food and song much like our Christmas holidays today. The Yule log began as a Viking tradition; a special log, preferably from one's own land, according to the website History.UK.com. The log would be cut and dragged to the fire, sometimes requiring a team of horses to drag the log! The ideal was to find a log large enough to burn for twelve days. I once saw a photo of a Yule fire with the log extending out into the room,  so it burned end-first! A bit of obstruction to set over, I'd think, but I feel sure that log burned as long as needed.

According to Tomm Larson at NoelNoelNoel.com, "The burning of the Yule log marked the beginning of Christmas celebrations. In Appalachia, as long as the log, or "backstick" burned you could celebrate. Often a very large "backstick" was chosen and soaked in a stream to ensure a nice long celebration. In the early nineteenth century, American slaves didn't have to work as long as the Yule log burned, so they would choose the biggest, greenest log they could find. If they did have to work while it burned their master had to pay them for the work.

T

Come Bring the Noise by Robert Herrick

Come bring the noise,

My merry, merry boys,

The Christmas log to the firing;

While my good dame, she

Bids ye all be free,

And drink to your heart's desiring.

With the last year's brand

Light the new block, and

For good success in his spending,

On your psalteries play,

That sweet luck may

Come while the log is a teending.

Drink now the strong beer,

Cut the white loaf here,

The while the meat is a shredding

For the rare mince-pie

And the plums standing by,

To fill the paste that's a kneeding.

I hope your fires are bright, both in your hearth and in your heart, and that all preparations for Wednesday are moving smoothly and joyfully!

Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.

Christmas Traditions: Christmas Cards

Are your Christmas cards in the mail yet? Or have you, like many others today, given up on this tradition and sent online cards instead? As the cost of postage rises and lives get busier and busier, many people have found alternatives to the snail mail delivery of greetings. 

My mother loved Christmas cards, and mailed well over 100 every year. I remember 3 cent stamps on the cards, so it wasn't a terrible expense to send them in those days. Today, at almost half a dollar a card for stamps, we think a little more carefully about our address lists! Even accounting for inflation the cost is much higher than it was 50 years ago.

In the realm of Christmas traditions, cards were a latecomer. The first card was sent only 171 years ago by Sir Henry Cole, a native of Bath, England. He was living in London at the time and commissioned John Callcot Horsley to design a card for him to send to his friends during the holidays. Some frowned at the convivial glass raised by the images on the card, but others pointed out that the sides of the card depicted the other, more charitable side of the holiday. 

The trend caught on quickly despite objections, and by 1873 Christmas cards had made their way to America. Louis Prang, a native of Silesia and later a Boston lithographer, was already well known for his line of fine prints of Massachusetts buildings and his war maps created during the Civil War and printed in newspapers across he country. He added a line of Christmas greeting cards in 1873, and went on to create cards for other holidays. Prang later moved in Los Angeles, where he died in 1909. His gravestone reads 

"The great color printer. A seeker for truth and beauty. Educator. Idealist." He is buried in Forest Hills Cemetery in Jamaica Plains, Massachusetts.

Cards have changed over the years; the early postcard format gave way to the folded card and envelope; humorous, patriotic, religious and secular jostle box-to-box in the card aisle. There are cards for specific loved ones, cards that apologize for being late, pop-up cards and musical cards and those designed to hold monetary gifts. Annual letters began to be included by some people, and others began collecting cards. 

While the sending of greeting cards has seen a decline, my mailbox still sees a few each day during this season and I have to say, I enjoy receiving them. It makes me think of the senders and our connection, and to appreciate the time it took them the send my their happy wishes during this time of year. My cards have been mailed too, and probably will be for as long as I can write. It's tradition, and more than that, it reminds me of good times and good people, and always brings a smile.

Some vintage cards and other images I like, from Vintage Printable. Do visit this great site for excellent vintage images that can be downloaded and printed for free. What a gift!

Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.

Christmas Trees Past

I was looking through some old photos this evening, and found several of past Christmas trees. I thought it might be fun to put them together in one post. So, in no particular order:

2010--our first "Charlie Brown" tree in years. I still like these kinds of trees; maybe next year we'll get another one. These are simply field-cut trees from somewhere on our property--not perfect, fairly bare in fact, but so easy to decorate. And they hold well too.

2011, and another Charlie Brown tree. The new bookshelves too the spot we'd been using for several years so we got a smaller tree.

2002, before the log room was built. Finding a post for a tree in our small house was always a challenge. This was an artificial tree, I believe, bought because my allergies were so bad then. This one was all gold and white with bits of red; I don't theme my trees these days, preferring all the colors instead of just a few.

2005, just after the log room was finally complete. We were still using the same artificial tree, but it seemed a lot smaller in the log room.

And this year's tree--full of balls and color!

Oddly, I could not find photos from every year since I've been taking them digitally. I am wondering if some were lost when my external hard drive crashed. How sad that would be! But as it is, my photos seem to be scattered all over the place on this computer and I can see I need to do some serious organizing if I am to find anything in the future.

It was fun looking for them anyway, and traveling back through memories of so many life events. Not quite as nice as looking through an album, but almost!

Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.

Sir Cleges and the Christmas Cherries: A Retelling of a Story from the Legends of Arthur

Sir Cleges was knight like no other. Brave and fearless in battle, he had a kind heart and always helped anyone in need, lending money without expecting repayment, or forgiving rents if his tenants faced hard times.But over time he lost his fortune through his unstinting generosity, and had little left but the roof over his head. This Christmas season, there would be no celebrations, gifts, rich foods and visitors. There was no food at all, and only enough wood to keep the smallest of fires. Still, Sir Cleges knew there were people in worse shape than he was--people with no food at all, no home and no fire to warm them. 

Sir Cleges walked out one day on his land, thinking about how, even in his current situation, there were still so many who would spend the holidays with even less. He sat down under his favorite cherry tree, wondering if there was some way he could provide something for those poor people. A sound brought him out of his reverie.

"Why, it sounds like wind blowing through summer leaves, and yet here it is deep mid-winter!" Sir Cleges looked up and was stunned to see the tree was in full bloom and covered with ripe, juicy cherries.

"How can this be?" he exclaimed. "Cherries in winter? This must surely be a miracle!" He picked as many as his hands could hold and hurried home to his wife.

Reaching his home, he called out, "Look! Look what I have found! Can you believe it, cherries in winter?"

"It is a miracle!" she cried. She put one of the cherries into her mouth and smiled. "You must pick some of these magic cherries, Sir Cleges, and take them to Uther Pendragon. He is at Cardiff Castle now, I hear, and that is not so far away. He will be amazed to see these cherries, here at Christmas time!"

Sir Cleges agreed that this was a good plan, He picked a basket full of cherries, said good-bye to his wife and set off on his journey.

"Oh my, but will the King receive me, dressed as I am? Once I wore the raiment of a proud knight; now I am dressed like a beggar." Sir Cleges looked down at his ragged clothing in dismay. Then he straightened up and strode briskly on his way. "I may not be well dressed, but I am still a knight. I must act like one."

'Halt!" called the sentry at the castle gate. "Who are you and what is your business here?"

"Good day," said Sir Cleges. "I am Sir Cleges, a knight of His Majesty's realm. I have come to bring the King some Christmas cherries."

"You must pay me to enter here," the sly guard said. "What will you pay?"

"I have no money,"said Sir Cleges. "You can see my my clothing that hard times have overtaken me. All I have are these cherries, which I mean to give to the King."

"You will give me one third of your reward for bringing the King these cherries, or I will send you on your way."

Sadly, Sir Cleges agreed. He entered the castle and walked to the keep, but another guard stopped him.

"Halt! Who do you think you are, trying to enter here in your filthy rags?"

"I am Sir Cleges. I have come to bring these cherries to the King."

"You'll not enter here for free, my friend. What payment can you offer?"

Once again Cleges agreed to give the guard one third of whatever reward he was granted by the King. He walked up the stairs to the great hall, when yet another guard stopped him. Again payment was demanded.

"I suppose you want payment too!" Sir Cleges exclaimed.

"Take your cherries to the King. But you must give to me one third of whatever the King gives you as a reward for bringing him such lovely fruit."

Sir Cleges had no choice but to agree once again to these terms. He walked into the hall and bowed low, presenting his basket of cherries to the King.

"Cherries in winter! What a miracle!" The King shouted. He passed the basket of cherries around to his dinner guests, and all exclaimed in delight at such an amazing treat.

"Please, Sir Cleges, join us at the table." Sir Cleges sat down and ate of the rich and plentiful meal before him.

"Tell me, Sir Cleges, what reward do you wish to have in payment for bringing me such a treat?" asked the King.

"If it please Your Majesty, I should like permission to give twelve strokes with my stick to the people I choose."

The King stared at Sir Cleges. "That is a strange request indeed. Are you sure you would not prefer gold or meat or jewels instead?

"Thank you, Sire, I want only what I have asked."

"Very well, then," said the King. So it shall be."

Sir Cleges walked out of the hall and was soon stopped by the third guard. "Give me my third of your reward!" the man demanded. Sir Cleges struck the man on the back with four mighty blows that sent the guard howling out of the hall.

When he reached the entrance to the keep, the second guard demanded his payment. Sir Cleges obliged him, swinging his stick with all his strength and leaving the man crying on his knees. At the gate, the first guard stopped Sir Cleges and said, "All right, now pay me what is due me!" Once more Sir Cleges wielded his stick and struck the man the last four blows. As he passed through the gate, one of the King's men rushed up to him.

"Sir Cleges, Uther Pendragon has asked that you return to his hall," the man said. Sir Cleges was surprised but obeyed, returning to the presence of the King.

"I have recalled who you are, Sir Cleges. How come you to be dressed in the rags of a poor man?"

Sir Cleges bowed his head. "I have been too generous, Your Majesty, and then hard times struck and I have nothing left but him home and my family. And I thank God to have that much when so many have far less."

"But why did you not ask for gold or food as a reward? Surely that would have served you better?"

Sir Cleges explained about his encounters with the greedy guards. On hearing the tale, Uther Pendragon laughed and laughed.

"You are a clever man, Sir Cleges. Your story has earned another reward. You shall have new lands, and control of this Castle as well. But you must promise me to be a wiser steward of your money, and to be more cautious in your giving in the future."

And so it was, and so Sir Cleges did, and all was well with him once again.

There is a beautifully illustrated version of this story in a children's picture book by Jane Louise Curry.

You can read more about this story and its place in Arthurian legendry at these sites:

University of Rochester Middle English Texts Series

Translation by Jessie L. Weston

San Francisco State University Medieval Forum

Database of Middle English Romance



Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.

2500!

I just noticed that yesterday's blog post was 

# 2500!

Wow, how did that sneak up on me? I've been writing this blog since January 7, 2007. That means that I've averaged one post every day, except for about 34 days or so. That surprises me, especially considering that sometimes I miss an entire week of posting. I sure am one wordy woman. 

Looking back through my posts and all the pictures is like looking through a journal and photo album at the same time. The grandchildren have grown up and several have flown their respective nests; cars have come and gone, performances the same. Gardens grew, were harvested, and were buried under snow. The house changed here and there and my hair got a lot grayer. Much fun has been had, tears shed, and ideas shared. 

It's life, captured in these online pages. Thanks to all of you who have been along for this journey.

Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.

A-Caroling We Went

The past week flew by, filled with baking, booth work and getting ready for our weekend trip. Now I am home again and settling back into something like normal. Like most of you, I still have some shopping to do, packages to mail and so on to be ready for Christmas.

But the weekend was glorious! We left Friday morning to begin the round of three presentations of our program, Here We Come A-Caroling! Songs and Stories of the Season.  The weather predictions for the weekend in the region around Washington, DC didn't sound promising, but that's where our bookings were and no snow was going to stop us. Jeff met us in Ripley; we loaded his gear into our van and we were off.

Our first presentation was in beautiful Berkeley Springs, WV, in a historic Presbyterian church. Stained glass windows, white walls and rich wood surroundings, accented with the red of poinsettias and lights on a tree, provided the perfect backdrop. We even had an opening act: four young men who play old-time music came to perform a medley of carols and fiddle tunes.

They were led by fiddler Robbie Mann, who is a bluegrass music major at Glenville State University and son of the lady who coordinated the event. I loved the rendition of Grumbling Old Man and Growling Old Woman the guys played! If you're curious, you can hear Robbie playing the tune on YouTube four years ago. He was great then, even better now.

We spent that evening at the home of the library director, whose art-filled rooms were a delight to see. Conversation flowed well into the night; we slept soundly and woke to 2 inches of new snow (on top of the remains of the previous week's snow). I was worried about my van; we've not driven it in bad weather yet and we were on a road with a very steep hill. It's all-wheel-drive, but still I worried. So after excellent coffee and banana bread we said our goodbyes and ventured forth.

I needn't have worried; the van did great, never slipped, slid, or spun. But our day was a bit of a puzzle; we had been scheduled for our next event that evening in Frederick, Maryland but our host decided to reschedule for Sunday evening. It was a wise call as the snow continued to fall heavily and rain and ice were predicted to follow it. The day soon fell into place: we went to Jeff's daughters' home and he put a tune-up kit in the car of his oldest girl, then we went to lunch at a delightful English pub in Shepherdstown. Fish and chips and a pot of Earl Grey tea! What a fine meal.

Next stop was Leesburg, VA. My granddaughter Cassidy Ford, who is a songwriter in Nashville now, was in Leesburg for the annual Jingle Jam, a fundraiser for Juvenile Diabetes. We met my daughter-in-law just in time for the show at the newly refurbished Tally Ho theater in old-town Leesburg. It was one of the best concerts I've ever attended, and I was so happy to get to hear Cassidy sing again. Her songs continue to be played on various TV shows but seeing her in person was really great.

Jeff had managed to contact on old school friend who lived in Leesburg; his friend came to the show and afterwards he and Jeff caught up over tea at his friend's home while Larry and I went to visit Jon's grave in Union Cemetery.

It is never easy, and yet so necessary; tears and sadness inevitably surround these visits, but I wish I could do them more often even so. He would have been so proud of his girl that day.

I had no flowers or wreath to leave; I had not expected to be in Leesburg so I wasn't prepared. Just stopping for a few minutes is enough to reconnect once again with this beloved son.

Our final stop of the day was at my sister Theresa's house. There is nothing that restores the spirit or soothes the heart like an excited welcome from four little great nieces and nephews! They were all at the door to greet us, and we had a fine evening of singing, stories and talking. After the little ones were in bed, I joined my sister and her daughter-in-law in the kitchen to help make goodies for the following day, when Jeff and I would be presenting our second concert of our trip.

I love house concerts! The homey surroundings, casual setting and ability to talk with the guests while enjoying good food, and being able to share our songs and stories in that intimate setting is truly a joy. Theresa and her daughter-in-law Susan fed us a veritable feast for breakfast and we all pitched in to set up the family room for storytelling and singing. We had a good crowd and a wonderful time, then packed up and headed off for our last stop: the rescheduled show in Frederick, MD.

This performance was also a house concert, at the home of storyteller Susan Gordon, in the gently rolling hills just outside Frederick. We arrived with just enough time to set up, drink a bit of hot mulled cider before beginning our show. Again, warm, art-filled space, two loving dogs, good food, and a great audience combined to make the best possible environment for performing. Afterwards we enjoyed conversation with Susan and her guests. Storyteller Adam Booth had made the trip to hear us, as had Jeff's two daughters. It was a perfect evening, with snow on the ground, an almost-full moon gliding in and out of the clouds, and a warm wood stove and much laughter inside.

Monday morning saw us on our way home after another great breakfast, prepared by Susan--bacon, eggs, cranberry bread, excellent coffee, thin-thin anise-laced pizzelles...yum. We did of course make a few stops at junk shops on the way home (photos in the next blog!) and to visit my nephew Eamon. Then lunch at beautiful Casselman Inn Restaurant in Grantsville, MD, and finally, finally home.

Good times, good memories, good people, good audiences, and good food. What more could a storyteller ask?

Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.

Making Plum Pudding for the First Time in 40 Years

I've always wanted to try this again. In 1972 when I was 21 I tried making plum pudding. The result was, well, not so great. But my mother would make it sometimes at the holidays and I remembered the taste and the excitement of the flaming pudding being brought to the table. Mom also used to wrap silver coins in waxed paper and put them in the pudding so that was something we looked forward to, money being a scarce commodity for us children.

In the past few years I've bought not one but two pudding pans. Actually, three---one I put for sale in my booth. I kept the other two, thinking I would surely use them, but until today they just took up space in my cabinet. The time was right today, though, so I found a recipe that sounded something like what I remembered of my mother's puddings and set to work.

Of course, I didn't have all the right ingredients. And I forgot to add the chopped apples AND the silver coins! Ah me. Even with my substitutions and deletions, the puddings came out pretty well. As a matter of fact, I plan to make more next week, because I read that they are best if kept for a year before serving. Just like fruitcake that is properly soaked with brandy and packed up and put away, the flavors and texture keep developing.

Here's the recipe I used:

1 cup dark brown sugar
2/3 cup honey (recipe called for white sugar and molasses, but I didn't have molasses so I used brown sugar and honey as a sort of substitute
1 cup butter, at room temperature (butter, not margarine or shortening)
1 cup apple cider (recipe called for milk)
2 eggs, beaten
1/4 tsp salt (that's not very much, is it?)
1 tsp baking soda
3 teaspoons baking powder
3 1/2 cups all purpose flour plus 2 additional tablespoons
1 1/2 cups raisins, finely chopped (I used more than that, and mixed dark and golden raisins since I had them, and I did not chop them)
1 1/2 cups candied fruit mix (that fruitcake mix with citron, orange and lemon peel, cherries, etc)
1 1/2 cups chopped apples (which I forgot to put in)
1 cup chopped nuts (I used walnuts)
1 tsp ground cinnamon (I used more because I like cinnamon)
1/4 tsp ground cloves
1/2 tsp ground nutmeg

Boiling water

1. Grease 2 2-pound coffee cans, 2 2-quart pudding molds, or 3 2-quart oven-proof deep baking dishes. The recipe I used didn't say to flour the pans, but mine stuck a bit so next time I'll flour them well too, and hope that helps.

2. In a large bowl, combine sugar, butter, cider or milk, eggs, and molasses.

3. Add salt, baking soda, baking powder and flour. When well mixed add fruit, nuts and spices and mix well.

4. MOST IMPORTANT PART: stir three times and make a wish. Invite anyone else in the house to do the same.

5. Fill each pan 1/2 full of batter. Cover the tops of your pans with their lids, or if you're using a coffee can or baking dish with 2 layers of aluminum foil and seal it well around the edges.

6. In a large pot with a rack or trivet in the bottom, place your pans and add enough boiling water to go 2/3 up the side of each pan. I used my pressure canner for one mold, and another tall pan with the rack from a small pressure cooker in the bottom. I put the pudding molds in, then added warm water to be sure of the right water level, then took my puddings out again and waited until the water boiled. Then I put them into the water, put the lids on the big pots, and reduced the heat to medium low so that the water was just boiling gently.

7. I cooked mine about 5 1/2 hours, until a fork came out clean when I stuck it in to test. There might be some sticky fruit that will cling to the fork a bit but you will be able to tell the difference between that an uncooked dough.

8. When they were done, I took them out of the boiling water, let them cool on a rack for about 20 minutes, then turned them over on the cookie rack to remove them from the mold. They didn't come out right away but when I tapped on the pan they plopped out, leaving a good bit of their tops in the pans. I got those bits out and patted them back in place (and tasted a little bit too---MMMM!).

Now they are still cooling on the counter, but later this evening I will wrap them each in a big white hanky, put them in a plastic bag and soak them with brandy. Then I will put them in the fridge and leave them alone until Christmas.

To serve, I'll make a hard sauce, I think, or perhaps some other sauce (lots of recipes and ideas online ofr these). I'll decorate the top with a few cherries, maybe, then pour brandy over and light it (I hope) with a match. Think that will work? I'll let you know, so stay tuned. (Or if you know something about this part that I don't know, do tell!)




Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.

Why Red and Green at Christmas? And the Holiday Table

 Have you ever wondered why red and green were the predominant colors of this holiday season, which occurs at the outset of winter when in many places the world is mostly gray and white?

There are several possible explanations, according to folklore. One is that in the ancient Celtic culture evergreens represented continuing life in a time of dark and cold. Much importance was attached to these plants by the Druids, who believed that holly, ivy and other evergreens had spiritual powers and could bring good luck if used correctly.

Early Christian missionaries sought to win over pagan culture by incorporating Christian teachings into existing traditions, so they taught that red berries were symbolic of the blood of Christ, and that the thorns of the holly represented the crown of thorns. Since the pagans already had established celebrations around the Winter Solstice, the Christians selected that time of year to celebrate the birth of Christ, eventually replacing the solstice celebrations with Christmas. While Chrisitianity became in time the dominant religion, certain vestiges of earlier traditions clung to the winter holidays as holly, evergreens and mistletoe all became standard parts of our decorations and continue to be important even today.

So  am right in keeping with ancient traditions with my love of red and green at the holidays. This year's holiday table uses my vintage red and green glass, along with crystal pieces and touches of white. 

I picked branches off my bridal wreath spirea bush and spray-painted them gold and silver for the center arrangement, and added a few pyracantha berries and some fake glittery berries for color. Simple and fast.

I bought the green berry bowls below to go with this Anchor Hocking boopie burple bowl one at a time (that really is what this pattern is called--don't you love it?). I have a crystal set that I assembled the same way, finding the bowls at thrift shops and yard sales. My sister Theresa gave me the diamond point goblets, and the footed ruby tumblers (also Anchor Hocking) came from that estate we bought in May.

I like having individual salts and peppers on the table; it simplifies things. My sister Liz gave me several sets and I found a dish to hold them until needed.

The tall red vase is also Anchor Hocking. That company made a lot of affordable, beautiful and functional glassware, and what I liked best is what they made in the 40's-60's. The red decanter may be Blenko, or perhaps Viking, it's difficult to tell. It had no stopper when I bought. I buy stoppers whenever I find them reasonably priced, so I have a container of various sizes now. When I buy a decanter or cruet that needs one, I just go through my collection! Of course, often it turns out that I don't have the right size, and the hunt begins again.

The little bowl with the red knob on top on the left in the above photo is a recent find. The knob is red bakelite, and the bowl is perfect for cinnamon sugar--and this is perfect cinnamon toast weather.

The Santa candle holder below is 60's vintage, by Howard Holt. These are surprisingly collectible these days. Who would have thought it? I found this pair last week at Goodwill. The mirrored board under the Santa is another Godwill find and makes a good "center" for my table.

I think I have a thing for candle holders because I certainly seem to have plenty of them. The deep ruby ones are by Fenton glass; I found them at the end of an auction at a bargain price. The red twist vase is one of a pair; I do not know the maker. The ruby is cased in clear glass and the base is quite heavy. I bought these on eBay recently and was pleased with how beautiful they are--much prettier than their photo. I would guess them to be Kanawha Glass or perhaps Italian Murano, but do not know for sure. The clear candle holder in the foreground is another mystery. I feel fairly sure this pair is by Heisey, but have not been able to verify that. They are heavy, beautiful crystal that sparkles in the light.

I am looking forward to seeing my table surrounded by smiling faces, loaded with good food, and filled with the cheer of the coming season.

Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.

Getting Ready to Sing

This coming weekend is carols time! Jeff Seager and I will be on the road to the eastern panhandle of West Virginia to present three programs of the stories and songs of the season. This is our third year for our carols program and each year we've added new songs to our repertoire as we explore the world of Christmas music--not the music only, but the stories and history behind the songs. We've found intriguing tales of rebellious teens, hard luck, desperation, inspiration, the Underground Railroad, war, and druidic influence.

One of my favorite things about the holidays is the music--not the current popular singers twisting the songs into some arrangement painful to listen to, but the music performed by choirs (some of these can be painful too, however!) and musicians who understand the heart of the songs. I've long been curious about the origins of some of the songs--who wrote them, where, why and when. So a few years ago I asked Jeff, who plays guitar and sings, if he'd be interested in working on a program with me, researching the history and lore behind songs both familiar and not so well known.

This year we'll add the standard Deck the Halls, with an interesting connection to Appalachian culture, Go Tell it on the Mountain, a spiritual collected in the earliest written collection of black music in the US, and Mary Had a Little Baby, another spiritual with a surprising place of origin, and I Saw Three Ships, a song I remember my mother singing at the holidays.

Our first performance is Friday night at the Berkeley Springs Presbyterian Church in Berkeley Springs, WV, at 7:00pm. We also have two house concerts scheduled, one in Maryland and one in Virginia, so I'm keeping a watchful eye on the weather, which could play some tricks this weekend. Keep your fingers crossed for us that all is merry and bright and not snowy and icy!


Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.

Waking Up the House

Sunlight peeks shyly through the bedroom curtains. Although it still looks gray and dreary, my clock says it is 7:30 am, and past time to be awake. I look the window: a dusting of snow covers yesterday's muddy remains of Sunday's snow, the sky hangs low and threatens more snow to come. I turn on a lamp and bump Larry's shoulder.

"Time to get up!" I say, and he replies with a mumble and pulls the covers over his head.

It is usually like this in the morning; I get up ready to roll; Larry needs more sleep than I do and wants to hang in the bed as long as possible. When he does hit the floor, he's a ball of energy, but waking up is not his favorite part of the day.

I get my robe and leave him to the bed. One by one I turn on the lights. Our house is not wired in that convenient turn-on-one-switch-and-all-the-lights-in-a-room-come-on way. The friend who did the wiring did it for free and did it fast and simple so each lamp and light must be turned on individually.

Golden light seeps into dark corners as each room wakes up.

I stop in front of the sliding glass door to close the door. Charlie the orange-and-white cat, who wanted out at 6:00am, has apparently let herself in again. To watch this small cat pull open a heavy wood-framed glass door is real entertainment, but she does it, so we have to remember to lock the door if we want it to stay shut. Forget, and the house gets a brisk airing-out whether we want it or not.

Outside, I see the dogs standing on the porch steps. I would feel flattered that they are anxious to see me, but I know they are really looking for Larry, He Who Feeds Them. As soon as they hear movement in the house, they leave their cozy sleeping place under the log room and stand at attention by the steps. I try to tell them that He is still in bed, but they pay no attention to me. They are looking beyond me into the house.

Snow blows lightly around in the yard; even the snowbirds look chilled to their tiny bones. It's not a fit day for man or beast. I turn away from the door and turn on the kitchen lights. My favorites are the small lamp by the sink that bathes the counter in yellow; the other is the amber "grape" lamp from the 50's that adds to the golden glow. I pick up Irene, the huge aluminum kettle and fill her with water. The Tappan adds blue to the morning light as the gas flares. My pretty green German teacup and saucer, Larry's hefty brown mug for coffee, the yellow Hall teapot with its insulating cover and the Starbucks stainless steel coffee press all stand ready on the counter.

The water boils. The smell of coffee fills the house. Larry stirs; his feet pad across the bedroom floor.

"Good morning!" he calls.

He walks to the door to greet the dogs who are now beside themselves with joy. Their barking starts the rooster crowing.

The house is awake. The day begins.

Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.