Winter Solstice 2024: Ideas and Energy

Winter Solstice is here, one of  my personal High Holy Days. 

In the chronicle of the seasons over the course of a year, winter is both the time for ending and a beginning, time for telling the old stories and inventing new ones. Summer's leaves are on the ground moldering off into duff while springtime buds are set, patiently waiting.  The woods and fields in their muted cloaks of golden ochre and blue-browns slumber in the low December light. The way the winter light blankets the river in soft hues of misty violet causes me to stand still for long, long moments that leave me feeling deeply grateful for color, light, silence, and slow time.  

Susquehanna River in December

Winter is my season. I am energized by the quality of light. I tumble into unfinished artworks that have laid untouched for months on my studio table or leaned, dusty and dull, against the wall. Between my different jobs, there is something of a break that allows me to finish these things and start new ones. I have the time to revisit the artists who shaped me and to discover new ones. Art books on Henry Moore and Georgia O'Keeffe are laid out across the table and I am still learning from them. New (to me) artists are alongside them with museum cards with works by A.J. Casson (1898 - 1972)  and a new book on the work and life of Chiura Obata ready for a new year's study.  

A.J. Casson -  Little Island 

Walks and hikes hit differently in winter. We can see into and through the forest, the sky is everywhere. I can breathe without suffocating heat and humidity. I have a heightened sense of space and form and stop often to admire views and open places. Maybe this is why I felt drawn to look at Obata and Casson this year, two 20th century artists who worked with limited color palettes to convey the idea of vista and landmark. 

Chiura Obata - Clouds, Upper Lyell Trail

Each year as a sort of New Year's resolution I choose an artist or two to spend time with. I've done this since high school when our art teacher gave us the yearly challenge to study under a master. His large personal classroom library of museum art books offered our possible selections. I don't think most of his collection would have appeared in our Catholic school library so the idea of having access to artists like Pablo Picasso, David Bomberg, Willem De Kooning  or Vanessa Bell was a huge draw. I remember my four selections by grade level: freshman year - De Kooning, sophomore year - Pieter Bruegel the Elder,  junior year - Wassily Kandinsky, senior year - Frida Kahlo. I also remember a certain nun's reaction when she saw me absorbed in the Kahlo book while in study hall. "Where did you get that book?! Obscene!!"  I never gave up my source. 

Pennsylvania German bank barn - hayloft 

Winter environments offer us the bare bones of what it is needed to survive. I love the colors of winter birds who wear only the essential colors for blending in to their surroundings during the hungry times for hawks and other predators. Trees and shrubs in their dormancy provide the sculptural scaffolding for how a forest is structured. A sturdy old barn or fieldstone farmhouse surrounded by quiet fields and pastures catch the eye Wyeth-like, monumental and stark. The year I chose Andrew Wyeth as my annual artist to study (2010 -2011) my winter was filled with finding and sketching the places he painted (or similar landscapes).  It was a winter of intense learning about how to see landscape and that made me appreciate this season so much more. 

Structure in a floodplain forest

On a recent sketch outing with our nature journal group, I started a winter sycamore sketch in watercolor very Wyeth-like and unfinished until I spent another few hours at my studio table developing it. As I worked with four colors I was considering how the limited palette I had chosen had in fact become limitless with possibility. Someone asked why I don't work in bigger scales - that the little sycamore sketch surely would be an awesome large canvas. I had to laugh (not at them, but to myself) and said "You know I live in a very small house, right?" But then I had a snap thought just pop into my head. What if I turned my barn and garden shed into an open studio? Hmm. Project 2025? 

My winter hikes are planned out for the season and like new ideas emerging from the detritus of the old year, I planned a few days to tackle cleaning the garden shed side of the barn out. We'll see what happens, how much progress I make. A.J. Casson loved winter for the energy and ideas it gave him as a landscape painter. And maybe that describes part of my love of this season. I have energy and time to think, create, dream.  Inspired by an old article in Canadian Art Magazine (1985) on the aging Chasson, I scribbled a free-form poem into my sketch journal beneath the sycamore study. I will study the Susquehanna through his eyes this winter.

Casson abhors idleness and he chafes against the chains

that keep him from doing the work he loves.

"I think what I will do after Christmas!"

As if Christmas is the reason for his bondage,

his captivity in the work-a-day world of forty years

in commercial art.

In winter he is ebullient as champagne 

with an elemental look, knapped quartz,

cornsilk hair at 86,

bushy eyebrows white like hoarfrost. 

Winter's overlapping planes,

its modified cubism, he wonders

"What can I pull out of this?"

A.J. Casson - Mist, Rain, Sun

Notes:

The Legacy of Chiura Obata, Yosemite Conservancy https://yosemite.org/the-legacy-of-chiura-obata/

"A.J. Casson: A Painter's Life" (1985) Canadian Art article by Hubert de Santana

UK Camino Ingles: Day 7 - Our Final Day on The English Way - 8 mi

Our last day on The English Way, the UK route of the Camino Ingles, Camino de Santiago, dawned gray and cold. We walked out of town down the Itchen Way along the river which was high and fast and nearly at the level of the footpath. To the other side of the path ran the Itchen Navigation, a canal system long disused with a compliment of cuts and locks and roaring overflow gates. It was tricky going in some places with deep mud and inches-wide tracks for maneuvering around flooded pools. The going was slow and sometimes frustrating. 

Molly and river mud

Aircraft roared on take off from the Southampton Airport and were soon lost in the low clouds above us. Noise from the M27 filled our ears and soon we were hemmed in with an urban landscape of roads, neighborhoods, and a grassy sports park where the trail became a wide paved lane filled with walkers and runners in the light rain. Road walking began on Priory Road once we crossed the wide river, now an estuary, at Cobden Bridge. We stayed on pavement the rest of the way. No more mud and flood, for sure, but road walking is hard on the knees and feet. 

Road walking the rest of the way.

River Itchen Boardwalk into the city

Now in the city of Southampton, we could feel the end of our weeklong hike was near its end. Past St Mary's Stadium, around the old medieval gatehouse at Bargate, and down city sidewalks along High Street to the ferry terminal where our friend Ken would disembark later, arriving from Isle of Wight for a celebratory dinner. We turned along Winkle Street for the last few hundred feet of our journey and were greeted at another old medieval gatehouse, God's House Tower. 

The medieval Bargate entry 

We were congratulated by museum and gallery staff in the little cafe and given a stamp and certificate of completion. We did it! I wondered how many pilgrims must have walked through this gate on their way to a ship that would take them to France or onwards to the coast of Spain where the Camino Ingles continues in Ferrol on its way to the Cathedral of St James in Santiago de Compostela. I won't lie - part of me wanted to continue on! 

God's House Tower and gate

Molly and I found a nearby pub and plopped ourselves down to get a well-deserved drink and rest our feet. This was the same pub used for the scenes in the Titanic movie where Jack wins a ticket on the unsinkable ship. The barmaid learned we had just finished the walk and was pleased as punch to offer us our last stamp. She was so proud to fill that last little square of blank card with the Platform Tavern's unique stamp. I texted Ken to let him know we'd "landed" in town and he texted back to let us know he'd meet us at our hotel to take us for dinner. Suddenly it all seemed so finished. We walked along the old medieval city walls to our hotel for the night just a few blocks away. It was modern and bright, efficient, warm, dry. Somehow it already seemed we'd moved into another time and space.

Part of the medieval wall and gate at God's House Tower.

After a hot shower and dry, clean clothes put on, I waited for Molly to finish up and had a good think about our trip. Part of the pilgrimage experience is the hospitality and kindness of people you meet along the way. Anytime I am distance walking I meet the most wonderful folks who share some trail time and tell their stories. There is something about being on foot through a landscape that puts you at eye level with others. Places to stay, places to eat, local history, and of course for me the nature and ecology of a place, all add up to a slow-paced deep dive into landscape and folk. As I sat on the edge of my bed, I began to miss already everyone we'd met and a flood of gratitude washed over me. 

Receiving our certificates at God's House Tower

Molly's last stamp!

My completed pilgrim's passport

Soon enough Ken texted from the hotel lobby and we join him to walk through the evening city streets to a restaurant he'd picked out for our celebratory dinner. Southampton at night was beautiful. We all chatted and ate and toasted and ate some more until it was time to make our way back to the hotel and Ken to the ferry terminal. A beautiful night. Thank you, Ken! 

Celebration!

Old city walls

In gratitude for all the help, thanks to Peter and Jane of Walking Holidays  for the excellent guidance and support and to everyone we met along the way who offered hospitality and kindness. I'm sure the Camino Ingles, The English Way will continue to grow in popularity but I hope it can retain its authenticity as it attracts more people to walk its path. We both loved the adventure of it and the treasures we found along the way (both in people and places) that made this walk so rich. I found my love for old churches grew substantially on this walk - it made a real church crawler out of me. My ongoing love for the natural landscapes of England and all the work being done to re-nature and re-wild so encouraging. I hope it is not too long before I can come back and explore some more the landscapes of Wales, Scotland, Ireland, and more of England.

 

The Pilgrim

Who would true Valour see

Let him come hither;

One here will Constant be,

Come Wind, come Weather.

There's no Discouragement,

Shall make him once Relent,

His first avow'd Intent,

To be a Pilgrim.

Who so beset him round,

With dismal Storys,

Do but themselves Confound;

His Strength the more is.

No Lyon can him fright,

He'l with a Gyant Fight,

But he will have a right,

To be a Pilgrim.

Hobgoblin, nor foul Fiend,

Can daunt his Spirit:

He knows, he at the end,

Shall Life Inherit.

Then Fancies fly away,

He'l fear not what men say,

He'l labour Night and Day,

To be a Pilgrim.

- John Bunyan 

UK Camino Ingles: Day 6 The English Way - 7 miles

This rather short day on The English Way allowed us some extra time to explore and rest at The Hospital of St. Cross which is directly on the path. It was a remarkable visit and our time there was a real gift. Thank you to the Brothers and Father Dominic for spending time with us. 

Approaching St. Cross on the Camino Ingles

Our walk out of Winchester was made with the promise to come back the after we finished our Camino to spend a day in the cathedral. But there was so much more about this big medieval town built on the River Itchen that deserved more than a day to explore. Keeping in view St Catherine's Hill across the river on this damp morning we followed the path around a big bend through luxurious water meadows straight into the garden wall of St. Cross. So in we went, not suspecting it would be a few hours before we emerged. 

St. Catherine's Hill, hilltop fort and medieval site

We found the gates swung open to receive visitors as Sunday morning mass had just concluded for the parish of St. Faith that has gathered here for over 500 years. This great almshouse, church, and community of hospitality was built under the care of Bishop of Winchester Bishop Henry of Blois, whose mother was the youngest daughter, Adela, of William the Conqueror. In the 1130s the walls began to rise for the church with its surrounding cloister walk and almshouse. Henry dedicated his charitable institution to St. Cross and it served the practical purpose of helping men and women in financial or physical difficulty. "For the hospital of Christ's poor," wrote Henry, "newly  founded outside the city walls of Winchester, for the good of the soul." 

Pilgrims blessing at the One-Hundred Menne Hall

At risk of sounding a little "woo-woo" I'd like to say that there were several layers of spirit hovering around us as we explored the grounds and the church, not as in 'spirits' but in-the-spirit of a profound sense of love and care. It was almost overwhelming. Like a giant hug.  It permeated the stones of the church and as a fan of stone masonry and its technical history I could as easily feel the care of each stone having been cut, dressed, set into place. Way back when I thought I wanted to be a traditional stone mason and worked a summer with an area mason, I learned to see stone in ways that indicated not just the craftsmanship, but with a feel for the care of work. The whole place seemed to shimmer with this kind of care.  

Cloister and Church of St. Cross

Masters Hall and Brothers Quarters

I am, admittedly, a church-crawler which in the States is kind of an odd thing to do with your free time, but here in the UK I felt like my little hobby is better appreciated. There are a number of excellent blogs I follow to learn more about ancient churches in the UK and some of what I learn I can place into context here in the States, from  the traditions of stone masons to the importance of the craftspeople and their role in maintaining a church as a living space. Paul Timlett's recent post on church-crawling made me grin ear-to-ear as I tried to find ways to describe my experience in the Church of St. Cross. Old churches are best though of as living spaces where even in their disuse, there are vibrant living stories to be told. In their best dress, they are full of color and plays of light. In their forgotten places, they just need our patient love to be reimagined. 

"Here, let's do this..."

Lying back in a pew to stare

In many older churches, especially before the Reformation, vibrant wall paintings would have covered their interiors. Architectural details would have been painted in lively decoration. We certainly had seen hints of this in our church visits on the way thus far. But as I looked into every nook and cranny of the St Cross Church, my attention was drawn to all the ways people over the centuries have left their marks - in stone, light, tile, tapestry, and wood. The vaulted ceilings with their arches and columns seemed to still reverberate with the morning's mass music if not the sounds of the human voice raised  in song for hundreds of years. As I touched lightly the brilliantly beautiful handmade clay tiles, I heard a brother coming up behind me to turn on the lights. "Here," he said, "Let's do this....." and wowwww.  Truly, I felt the church itself was alive - almost (woo-woo alert) humming with people over the centuries at their work of decorating and caring for it and each other. Well, the brother who switched on the lights was also humming.

A worn threshold

As transient pilgrims we often don't get to stay long enough to see the life of a church unfold but on this walk we have in some small ways witnessed church communities, whether religious or social within ancient walls to live very modern lives. Since we began our journey in Caversham and Reading, some sixty miles ago, and because we've perfected the art of lingering, we'd  been invited to share in a final goodbye, to join lunch with a new parishioner meeting that was underway (we were privy to some heartfelt concerns about faith), to attend a Sunday mass, and now to hear about the thriving community of St Faith at St Cross. Mathew the humming brother was excited to welcome his first pilgrims from the States. He lingered with us and explained how the tradition of caring for the area's poor is not just a centuries' old mission of their predecessors but an active calling today.  Brother Mathew was one of twenty-five brothers living at St Cross who, along with the farmer and his family, and the porter and his family, make up this beautiful community of care. 

On the Camino de Santiago!

Enjoying being on the dole!

At the Porter's House we were offered the pilgrims dole, a few slices of bread and two cups of hard cider made on the grounds. Brother Mathew explained the difference between the red-robed and black-robed brothers and how they participate in the spiritual life of the community of St Faith. They attend all the weddings, all the baptisms (there are a lot!), all the funerals. They share a fine choir. They, along with the parish of St Faith help host a number of annual events like the hugely popular Spring Fete and annual Knight's Festival, with jousting of course! The Hundred Men Hall is still an active kitchens and serves hearty midday meals daily. People were strolling the gardens, sitting to sketch, share conversations. Elder unmarried brothers gathered at the Porters Lodge to give their congratulations to the married brother farmer on the birth of his new baby boy that morning in Winchester. Molly received her scallop shell with the Cross of St James. Everything was celebration. Everything was love. 

Leaving St Cross

For hours we immersed ourselves in the community of St Cross and St Faith. I wished we could have stayed longer but with light starting to fade and a few miles left to go to Eastleigh for the night, we met with Father Dominic who wished us Buen Camino at the gate and gave us a pilgrims blessing. With Brother Mathew in his long black robe waving goodbye from the Porter's gate inside, we continued back down the path that linked us to the Camino Ingles and the way south. Past gentle cattle, still part of the milking tradition at St Cross under the care of the brother farmer and land manager, Mike. We were embraced in thriving chalk stream landscape, one of the rarest habitats found on Earth (and most of that in South England). Walking away I felt immense gratitude for our visit. 

Molly, Father Dominic, and me

Milk cows have a special place in the story of St Cross

Notes: 

John Crook (2011) The Hospital of St Cross and the Almshouse of Noble Poverty. http://www.john-crook.com/

Hospital of St Cross https://hospitalofstcross.co.uk/history/

The story of St Cross "England's Oldest and Most Perfect Almshouse" - natural and human history:

UK Camino Ingles: Day 5 The English Way - 12 miles

Day 5 did not disappoint but it dawned rainy again and came with a compliment of showers and imposing storm clouds that thundered in the distance pretty much the whole time we walked. It also came with our first experience of the River Itchen and the flooded trails that we had been warned about before we started out in Reading and by river path walkers this day. We actually rerouted around the river as hikers, wet up to the top of their Wellingtons, kindly suggested we turn back. We made it to Winchester, however late it was, and spent the evening hours enjoying a rain-free walk around this beautiful Medieval town. 

Another wet start

Alresford did not want to let us leave as we found an interesting churchyard, an historic railroad, and met chatty neighbors out early the shops for fresh fish and produce. It was early in the misty rain but even so the town was bustling. The Camino Ingles joined the Pilgrims Way (Winchester to Canterbury), the Itchen Way, and St. Swithun's Way through the morning which gave the path a bustling feel as well. By this point in our walk I had lost all track of what day it was so I am guessing it was market day or a weekend? Anyway, it was very people-y. 

The Pilgrims Way joins the Camino Ingles

Alresford Station - The Watercress Line - and conductor Sue 

Watercress cultivation, water meadows, River Itchen

When we left the town and began to follow the River Itchen, along its banks and through its ancient water meadows, our pilgrimage truly took on its riverine/watery theme as we navigated stream fordings, flooded paths, and pop-up storms. Now I really got sucked into my newfound love for chalk streams. Trout were everywhere on their clear water gravel beds. Watercress and submerged aquatic grasses swayed with the strong current. Sometimes we swayed, too, as we balanced on narrow paths with water rising inches from our feet on either side. One slip or stumble and one of us could have easily ended up in the river. I became preoccupied with my cousin's safety and began to catastrophize with any number of doom and gloom scenarios in my head!  

One of several crossings today

A beautiful chalk stream, River Itchen

In any case, we did not go for a swim today but the river and the water meadows did their magic on me helping to wash away my distracting thoughts and reminding me how sacred the watery landscape would have been to our ancestors.  Rivers were integral to pre-Christian Celtic worship and when overlapped with Christian belief and traditions, streams of all sizes, springs, fens, and marshes became holy places, givers of life, worthy of deep reverence. St. Swithun figured highly today - he's one of Molly's favorite saints - and while we were walking in the same landscapes that he once lived in, keeping him in mind today made our spiritual connections to this beautiful river even more powerful.  River Itchen had me under its spell. 

Narrow, flooded path

We had to backtrack off the river at one exceptionally flooded section thanks to the warnings of a few walkers and one gentleman in particular who loved the idea of pilgrims walking through his favorite trail system but not mud-up-to-our-knees pilgrims. He was kind and concerned and gave us an alternative route on the road-bound St. Swithuns Way to reconnect with the river further downstream in Itchen Abbas, where we ducked into the church of St. John the Baptist just in time for the skies to open in downpour. 

Detour off the river

Over the hill 

We passed through wildflower fields and ancient woods, strolled along wet hedges and misty alleyways. We stopped at a pub and had delicious homemade pizza to warm us and revive our soggy spirits and to get our newest stamp to add to our pilgrim's passport. Medieval pilgrims would not have had these fun little cards to stamp along the way but they would have purchased little pilgrim badges stamped in tin or made with lead molds with the names of local churches and holy sites stamped into them. Some pilgrims collected the badges and wore them like our grandmothers and moms would have worn a charm bracelet. Some pilgrims, finding sacred waters on the way, would place their badges into rivers and bogs as offerings for safe journey. These are still found today in marshes and bogs all over the UK and France by metal detectorists and archeologists.

St. Swithun's Church, Martyr Worthy

Saxon-Norman-Medieval beauty

With the rain coming down again we stepped into the church of St. Swithun and delighted in its beautiful interior, found another stamp, and sat a few minutes to gather our thoughts. St. Swithun, a beloved Anglo-Saxon bishop of the church in Winchester (d. 863) was credited with many miracles during and after life, but his feast day of July 2 is best known as a weather-marker date in the cycle of seasons in south England, a kind of meteorological haunting. I love these little saint's tales and this one in particular for where we happened to be and what the weather was doing.  Tucked inside the 1,000 year-old church drying off and warm as the rain poured down outside, we felt like part of the good saint's story.

Entrance to Winchester from the Windall Moors

We entered the city along the River Itchen and found our lodgings in a faux-prison-themed hotel just on the outskirts of the city walls. It was a fun place! I loved my room and wanted nothing more than to take an extra long hot shower then pull on my sweat pants and hoodie to sink into the most comfortable bed under a most comforting comforter. But we wanted to see Winchester so badly that we gave ourselves a short break to freshen up then I went knocking on my cousin's door for our next adventure - to walk Winchester at night. What a beautiful twilight walk it was, full of bustle as the day had been, despite the rain. 

Truly one of my favorite cathedrals - finally in-person! 

The Bishop's House 

Defensive walls of Winchester (Roman/Saxon/Norse) at Kingsgate

The High Street

Alfred the Great!

Walk back along the river to our hotel

We reconnoitered the old city and made plans to come back for a day after we'd finished our walk in Southampton. I'm really glad we previewed the city and so we had a good feel for its layout and access that when we returned we knew exactly where we needed to go. A very lovely city surrounded by rivers, water meadows, forest, and chalk downs. 

Notes:

BBC dispels the St Swithun Day forecast. https://www.bbc.co.uk/newsround/48991574

Water meadow conservation includes keeping them operational as they may have been in the Middle Ages. I fell in love with the whole water meadow ecosystem that is part historical and part natural. I'm thinking the gentleman we met walking the flooded Itchen Way path may have been a local water meadow manager. He was so knowledgeable and a real conservationist. https://vitacress-conservation.org/stoke-mill-water-meadows/

We would walk River Itchen's Eastleigh Water Meadows further on, but this paper gives a good idea of the archeology, operations, and surviving uses of these fascinating places which on this day, Day 5, I really started to love despite being ankle deep in their workings.

https://www.hantsfieldclub.org.uk/publications/hampshirestudies/digital/2010s/Vol_66/Cook&Young.pdf

Thank you Hampshire & Isle of Wight Wildlife Trust for all the work they do. We walked through so many preserves I lost count! https://www.hiwwt.org.uk/

The Black Hole B&B - a quirky but comfy prison-themed hotel