Ep. 204 : Winter Solstice

“Wither, wither, black flowering night. May your dark juices bleed, burn up like a pool on the summer plain, shrivel like a stain upon sand, dwindle to a basalt pebble, tiny as a slow-worms eye is. Vanish, to nothing.”

Personal rituals observing the season continue even if the public cannot. This is one of my favourite ways to use this platform, by honouring the creators who came before me and rebroadcasting their work. This the fourth? year that I get to play this radio play by Alison Mcleay, which was originally broadcast on BBC Scotland Saturday December 21st, 1985 at 10:30pm. I was two years old when this originally aired, and though my local CBC channel would sometimes play the BBC Wold News throughout the night, I don’t know if this would’ve been aired.

Ep. 145 : Winter Solstice

Cycles of the year are very important to me. Spring Equinox is always quickening as you smell the winter dripping away. Summer solstice for dancing with friends throughout the shortest nights. Autumn Equinox is a celebration of the bounty the summer has brought, and a reminder of the coming winter.
But none really carry the weight for me as much as the Winter Solstice. The returning of the Sun fills me with hope and relieves the anxious dark which settles deeper into my bones. It used to be a time of depression and despair, when I only saw death and bad, but as I have learned more about the land, the Winter Solstice has become a quiet promise that this dark, too, will pass.