The winter holidays are a very liminal time—crossing from autumn into winter, crossing from dark into light, kissing goodbye to the frost-rimed Holly King, welcoming back the green-wreathed Oak King. Enjoying and/or enduring the secular celebrations. There is usually time off of regular activities, like work or school, and then the jarring reality of return to said activities. There are boisterous New Year’s celebrations tempered by sober New Year’s resolutions.
Then there is the space in between, when a glance at the frozen moon or the flit of a bird in bare, knobby branches stops the world. When all of matter and spirit can be reflected in a single sheet of winter ice.