December brings the queen of the seasons. A year that has ripened to an age that brings wisdom. A venerable old lady who has endured the winter, danced with the spring, romanced the summer and now crowns the year.
December wears a sparkle of frost and a sprig of holly in her hair and now, after a summer and autumn of high living, finds herself busy sweeping away the passing leaves of time.
The shortening December days awaken a host of fading memories, of spring flowers that magically emerged from the cold muck of winter, the arrival of the winged summer songsters, their nestlings growing to fulfillment, bursts of color that painted lawns with delicate arrangements of leaf, feather and flower. The intoxication of long days and short nights, of unlimited sun and shade, sandy beaches and seabirds, all culminating with the contentment that comes with finishing the harvest. It means flights of chickadees and hungry finches at the feeder, loons and cormorants gathering in the sounds.
December tells chilly tales of cold blustery winds, blizzards across the Great Plains, snow blocked highways and long cold star filled nights, of barren trees, evergreens and mistletoe and the inevitable argument of whose thermometer reads the lowest. At the top of the world, the sun will not rise this month in the land of the great white bear and frozen ocean.
But the cold without brings warmth within. December brings family time, the dog dozing before the fireplace, the gold and crimson light that comes with the flickering flame of logs burning in the fireplace mingling with the glow of candles, the comforting aroma of wood smoke, bread in the oven and soup on the burner.