Now that we’ve passed Twelfth Night, Christmas is receding into memories. We can’t bear to take our beautiful little tree down quite yet. This morning, while waiting for tea water to boil, I noticed the tree’s reflection in the window looking out into our courtyard. The day was barely light outside. Liminal time indeed. The sun sculpture we have outside is just barely visible on the right, its rays reaching toward the dawning day.
This time of the year reminds me of the lyrics from an old English folk song, The King, a favorite of mine:
Old Christmas is past,
Twelve tide is the last
And we bid you adieu,
Great joy to the new.