Light For Belonging

There’s a stillness to December you can’t find any other time of year.

The days narrow themselves into soft edges. The nights stretch long and quiet.

Old almanac writers called these “the dreaming weeks” — a time when the sun stands still, and the world gathers its breath.

Maybe that’s why candlelight feels different now. Not brighter, but closer. Not louder, but steadier — a kind of welcome that doesn’t require words.

Belonging has never been about the size of the gathering.

For me, it’s always been found in the small rituals that return every year.

My mom’s seafood dip — my favorite! Our yearly beer pong tournament at my uncles house. The way the house fills with voices. The quiet moments between the noise when the light feels like it’s holding the evening together.

Winter Solstice

Centuries ago, people marked this long night with candles and evergreen branches — signs that light returns, even if slowly.

It wasn’t a celebration of darkness, but of the turning point inside it.

We still feel that instinct: to gather, to warm the room, to share something bright.

Recipe: Seafood Dip

A small tradition that tastes like home.

Here's the link - I use crab instead of shrimp though when I make it.

From The Kitchen Magpie - so many of her recipes remind me of growing up here on the prairies.

Playlist

Winter on the Prairies on Spotify — songs for warm rooms and slow evenings.

Journal Prompt

Where did light find you this year — and where can you offer it next?