Almanac January 2024
January is a sacred pause, a rite of passage, a miracle in the dark.
As the Earth sleeps, a brown thrasher sweeps through the dormant garden. Gray squirrels skitter across naked gray branches. A grizzled buck disappears into the colorless yonder.
These bitter mornings, you study the critters beyond the window until the kettle calls out. Back and forth, you putter from stovetop to window, marveling at the movement amid the still and desolate landscape.
You open your journal, turn to a fresh page, watch your thoughts wax introspective.
Sifting through the humus of last year — the upsets, obstacles and lessons — you procure a wealth of nourishment. Glimpses of who you’re becoming. Morsels of wisdom to carry forth.
So much is stirring beneath the surface. Surely the crocus feels this way. Growth isn’t always visible.
At once, the thrasher breaks your focus with spontaneous song.
You put on the kettle, fill up your thermos, step into the freshness of a brand-new year.
The buck has shed his antlers at the forest’s edge. Gray squirrels skitter from cache to cache. Each critter is a holy mirror.
The darkest days are behind us. Within the ancient quiet of winter, a secret world awaits discovery. Those searching for spring will never see it. Those looking within will find the key.
Don’t think the garden loses its ecstasy in winter. It’s quiet, but the roots are down there riotous. — Rumi
Milk Flower
Among the earliest spring bulbs to bloom, the common snowdrop (Galanthus nivalis) dazzles in large drifts, especially when planted beneath deciduous tree canopies.
A birth flower of January, the snowdrop’s Latin name translates as “milk flower.” Emerging from a cold and sleeping Earth, the delicate flowers are, in fact, sustenance for the winter-weary, symbolizing purity, hope and new beginnings.
Reaching a height of just 3 to 6 inches, the dainty white blossoms of this hardy perennial resemble tiny teardrop chandeliers. German folklore tells that, before snow had a color, it asked the flowers of the Earth if it could borrow one of their radiant shades. When all the other blossoms denied the snow’s request, the humble snowdrop offered its white hue to the snow. Grateful for this kindly gesture, the snow vowed to protect the snowdrop from the icy grip of winter. Thus, snow and snowdrop remain true and lasting friends.
Stone Soup
You’ve heard the old folk story: Everybody gives, everybody wins.
Soup Swap Day is celebrated on the third Saturday of January. Launched in Seattle in the early 2000s, this unofficial holiday has inspired soup enthusiasts across the globe to gather their tribes — and their Tupperware — and get to simmering.
It’s simple.
Pick a soup, any soup:
Vegetable stew served with homemade bread.
Cream of mushroom topped with cracked pepper and fresh thyme.
Roasted cauliflower brightened with a squeeze of lemon.
The possibilities are endless.
Cook a king-size batch, ladle into containers, then distribute to your broth-loving friends. Leave the party with as much soup as you doled out. Everybody gives, everybody wins. PS