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NorthernGannet of Ember
Dec. 15th, 2018 09:24 pmThe Lussekatter came out pretty well. They didn't rise quite as much as they should have. It's too chilly in here. I put the dough over a pan of hot water, which helped a little. Anyway, the house smelled deliciously of saffron, ginger, and fir branches. St. Lucy's Day is a funny thing. I strongly suspect it's one of those appearances of the Goddess in a disguised form. December 13 isn't the shortest day of the year any more, but it was before calendar reform. So what are the odds that a feast day for a woman named Lucy, which means Light, would just happen to be declared on the darkest day? In Sweden, maidens celebrate the day by appearing to bring cakes to the family before dawn, wearing white dresses and wreaths with lighted candles on them. Like, that's not a sun symbol or anything . . . just a saint's day, nothing to see here. Also, the traditional forms for shaping the dough for the cakes are either a double spiral, or a u-shape with the top pinched together and the ends curled--a female symbol in the same sense as a pussy hat. The cakes are flavored by soaking saffron threads in boiling water, to make a lovely sun-gold liquid that turns the dough a pale sunny yellow. The Lady of Light brings back the sun . . . .
Yesterday was the 50th anniversary of the day we went out caroling together and kissed for the first time. Fifty years! It's a funny feeling to see something that was anticipated for so many years suddenly appear in the rearview mirror. It's kind of a dress rehearsal for our fiftieth wedding anniversary in a couple of years. One of the things we did was read Star Mother's Youngest Child, one of my favorite Christmas stories ever. It's by Louise Moeri, pictures by Trina Schart Hyman.
We continue progress on getting all the decorations up, cooking, and sending out cards. Today just before sunset, we went over to the lake for a walk. The pale sun was far to the south, lighting up the tips of the trees as it sank, and then, when it was below the horizon, tinting the clouds above with the palest pink light. You know you're in Michigan when you get all excited by slightly thinner clouds revealing a slightly brighter glow behind them, indicating where the sun might be if you could see it. Just before it set, it came out from under the cloud cover and showed itself as a crown, a garland, or a saffron-colored cake.
Yesterday was the 50th anniversary of the day we went out caroling together and kissed for the first time. Fifty years! It's a funny feeling to see something that was anticipated for so many years suddenly appear in the rearview mirror. It's kind of a dress rehearsal for our fiftieth wedding anniversary in a couple of years. One of the things we did was read Star Mother's Youngest Child, one of my favorite Christmas stories ever. It's by Louise Moeri, pictures by Trina Schart Hyman.
We continue progress on getting all the decorations up, cooking, and sending out cards. Today just before sunset, we went over to the lake for a walk. The pale sun was far to the south, lighting up the tips of the trees as it sank, and then, when it was below the horizon, tinting the clouds above with the palest pink light. You know you're in Michigan when you get all excited by slightly thinner clouds revealing a slightly brighter glow behind them, indicating where the sun might be if you could see it. Just before it set, it came out from under the cloud cover and showed itself as a crown, a garland, or a saffron-colored cake.
