Favorite Things ~ January Edition
January is for hibernating.
A friend said that in an email the other day and my heart warmed with her understanding and sympathy. For many folks, January is a new beginning, a fresh leap off into resolutions and enthusiasms. But for me it is a deep dormancy. All the things I put off during the happy chaos of the holidays must needs be attended to, of course. The wreck of my schedule has to be hauled up and inspected for repairs, and the daily round of work and rest resumed. But nothing desperate or urgent—not in January. No unnecessary deadlines; no high-flown expectations. The energy I give so gladly to the celebration of Christmas has to be replenished somehow, I’ve learned, and I have to make room for the gentle melancholy that always accompanies the close of such a happy time. I’ve actually come to anticipate January in its own right as a season of self-nurturing after such a season of self-giving. They both have their place, and I am grateful that this January has been a space of quiet within which to get my bearings again, consult my maps, and make ready for open waters once more.
I took my own sweet time wrapping beloved decorations in tissue paper for another year and winding lustrous ribbons on their spools. And I’m almost finished with my thank you notes!
Counts and recounts of my grandmother’s silver which I borrowed from my mother for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day festivities, and the half-happy, half-sad replacement of all the little bits and bots that were stowed in favor of crèches and bottle brush trees—these have been the major accomplishments of this month. Oh, and a wild and free frenzy of journaling. There is space now in that overstuffed head of mine for new thoughts to seed and old thoughts to take root. (And now, if I could just go for about a month or two without any new ideas, perhaps I’d have a chance of catching up on the ones I’ve already had!)
Books have been my gentle companions this month. The essays of Charles Lamb, Elizabeth Goudge’s autobiography, Thomas Traherne’s quietly majestic Centuries.
Philip and I have also started a new Lord Peter Wimsey novel, Whose Body? Dorothy Sayers is an old friend, but we’ve savored her detective stories slowly over the years, in the face of the very real temptation to race through them all in a mad surfeit of enjoyment. We hate to think of a time when there’s no new Lord Peter story on our horizon, but I imagine by then we’ll have sufficient distance to start them all over again. (But even at this point in our Wimsey career, we both think it safe to say that none will ever eclipse Gaudy Night.)
I have really loved resuming my study of French now that things have settled down a bit. (The only real ‘studying’ I did in December was learning a few French carols.) It’s been a joy with charming old readers, an exquisite book which I received as a Christmas gift from a dear friend, and a husband with whom to converse about one’s day en français.
Low Door Press will start rolling again in February. I am so excited to have my hands in the bookbinding process once more, and to turn out more copies of Kilmeny of the Orchard. And I am also in the serious planning stages of the next project!
I just have to share one of my newest treasures, this Lake platter that I picked up in a junk shop in Devon for a few pounds. I rescued it from its grime-covered condition and made it my carry-on coming home on the airplane—I was too worried that it would get broken in my suitcase. Besides, my suitcase was filled with books! This dear old platter has already instated itself as an heirloom: I used it to serve both my Thanksgiving turkey and my Christmas ham!
And, finally, we saw a movie Saturday night that I am still glowing over. The Artist is a sheer miracle of old Hollywood enchantment and I loved every second of it. It felt very surreal to be sitting in a 21st-century theater watching a film that looked and felt like it had been made in the 1920s. This movie is a love song to the classic art of film, and to the talented men and women who made the magic. A dashing hero, a gorgeous and spirited leading lady, a tender love story and all the beauty and glamour of radiant black and white–I cannot recommend it highly enough.
Lanier, j’etudie français à l’université! Hier nous avons lu quelques lettres de Lettres Persanes, de Montesquieu. Êtes-vous allée en France? Je voudrais y aller, mais je dois attendre jusqu’a j’ai un bon travail, hehe. Comment était-il L’écureuil et la première neige? Est-ce que vous avez l’aimé?
*l’avez aimé
Oui, nous sommes allés à la France, à Paris. Je l’adore! 🙂 Le livre est très bonne avec de belles images. Je lis des livres pour enfants dès maintenant. 🙂
I have spent this January reading through your archives starting at the very beginning and savoring each post like a delicious dessert. I have kept a slow pace so that I can enjoy each one and like you and Phillip (with Dorothy Sayers), I don’t want to reach the end of them too quickly. 🙂
I hope to be able to enjoy ordering one of my own Low Door Press books this time, but I’ll have to be quick! Your writing has endeared me to think of you as a dear friend even though we are strangers, thankfully there is the promise of eternity with all God’s people. 🙂
Heather, what a beautiful thing to say. I consider it the greatest (and most humbling) gift when one of my readers considers me a friend. *Thank you*
When my daughter was very young, we lived in Western Michigan where the winter is snowy and dark. We even ate by candlelight most evenings just to add some light. (That ended when her brother was born and old enough to blow the candles out… sigh.)
Anyway, I always said I was very Pooh-ish. One who is similar to Pooh Bear tends to become very groggy after the excitement of Christmas. Perhaps it is all that extra honey eaten in December? 🙂
So good to READ what you have been doing and the books you are reading and the movie! I haven’t seen it yet. I have read some of Lamb’s essays and Elizabeth Goudge’s autobiography ( the first page is exquisite of why she wrote it) …..now to find Centuries. Waiting for YOUR book!
Thank you so much for this post. This is exactly how I felt after Christmas and I definitely needed some hibernation for rejuvenation. I know that many people feel that way after the Christmas season, but I love how you said it–perfectly.
What a breathe of fresh air this is. The world would be a happier place, I think, if we all adopted a similar January philosophy. 🙂
Lanier! Just yesterday I was doing some small chores around the house and you popped into my mind. I realized it had been a while since I had seen a post from you (I almost said “it had been a while since I heard from you” because, like Heather above, I think of you as a friend too) when there you were, popping up on my reader! I was surprised and happy.
I love your transferware platter – I collect it in brown and cream and love all my dishes, teapots and platters. Thank you for the movie and book recommendations – I look forward to exploring them all. And here’s a fun way to brush up on one’s French: try and find the absolutely exquisite movies “My Father’s Glory” and it’s sequel, “My Mother’s Castle.” If you have yet to see these beyond charming adaptations of Marcel Pagnol’s autobiographical stories, you are in for such a treat. Cheers for a sweet February!
Thank you for reminding me of those beautiful films, Teresa! I have seen them both but it has been years. I need to hunt them up again. 🙂
A blessed Candlemas to you and Phillip, Lanier.
How I love your celebration of each month. It is a delight to see what you’re doing, and the photo of your “gentle companions” made my heart leap with delight. It is such a treasure to know others who enjoy the classics; they are so steeped in charm. And L’ecurueil et la premiere neige looks enchanting. May your February be filled with equal joy.
I just have to share this tidbit with you that I found online this morning, because it sounds to Ms. Goudge-like:
“Snowdrops (galanthas nivalis) are known as Candlemas Bells because they often bloom early in the year, even before Candlemas. Some varieties bloom all winter (in the northern hemisphere). The superstitious used to believe that these flowers should not be brought into the house prior to Candlemas. However, it is also believed in more recent times that these flowers purify a home.
According to folklore, an angel helped these Candlemas bells to bloom and pointed them as a sign of hope to Eve, who wept in repentance and in despair over the cold and death that entered the world. Many Christians see the flower as a symbol of Jesus Christ being this hope for the world. Candles that are lit during Candlemas also symbolize Jesus as the “light of the world”.”
Candlemas Bells. Isn’t that delightful? My blogpost today is on Candlemas, and when I posted the above quote, I couldn’t help mentioning, I think it was Winkle, in The Rosemary Tree, who actually heard the Canterbury bells in the garden ringing.
What a beautiful passage, Josie! I have never heard of the tradition surrounding snowdrops. That makes them even more dear. 🙂
And a blessed (belated) Candlemas to you, as well, my friend!
I too, like Heather and Teresa, have come to see you as a friend – which is why I’m asking, will you please go read this post? 🙂
http://fromtherisingtothesettingofthesun.blogspot.com/2012/02/ive-realized.html
Beautiful post! 🙂 Are there some fairly simple French textbooks or children’s dictionaries or such that you would recommend for me to try studying? I’ve taken French classes for two years, but I want desperately to continue studying on my own, so that I will not forget what I have learned and can gain more knowledge of the language! I just don’t know where to begin (for a good price). Thank you so much 🙂