New Life

We live in a throw-away society. In “the old days” things were made to last a lot longer than today, and if the need did arise, a repair job was often cheaper than buying new. If you have not read the picture book “Something from Nothing” by Phoebe Gilman, I urge you to do so—and don’t forget to pay attention to the story told in the border as well.

Almost a year ago a crate arrived at our house from my sister in Denmark. It contained our Grandmother Andersen’s spinning wheel. Despite its worm-eaten state and worn, missing, or broken parts, it was easy for the mind’s eye to see the work that had been done on this wheel in its glory days. It was very much a production wheel, not just a pretty piece of woodwork adorning a corner of the parlour.

My grandparents were married in 1912 and took over the family farm. Whether the spinning wheel was there when my grandmother moved in, I don’t know. Was it her own wheel that she took with her? I don’t know. But it’s a fair guess the wheel is at least 100 years old. And why in the world would I want that piece of broken equipment?

I am not a spinner, but my eldest daughter is. In fact, in another couple of years she can call herself a Master Spinner after six years of study. Jan knows a thing or two about woodworking, and after extensive research he restored the spinning wheel into a functioning tool again. He left the restored pieces in the natural light colour in contrast to the old dark wood. On Christmas Day, for the first time in decades, a foot on the treadle moved the footman up and down which caused the fly wheel to rotate, Vanessa’s hands fed fibre through the flyer, and yarn wound onto the bobbin. Between the two of them, father and daughter had brought new life to the old spinning wheel, and she rewarded them by humming softly and running rapidly. It was like she had been waiting for this moment just as much as we had. My grandmother’s spirit is in the spinning wheel and I saw her in the content little smile on her great-granddaughter’s face as she was creating yarn. This family heirloom is in good hands…

It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas

Yesterday we lit the third candle on our advent wreath. That means there’s only one more Sunday before Christmas. I don’t know about you, but the days of December seem to pass with lightning speed, and the Christmas spirit has so far eluded me. Maybe it’s the lack of snow crunching under my winter boots; maybe it’s the lack of seeing my breath in -20C weather; or maybe it’s because I have seen Christmas displays in stores for months, thinking “that’s much too early!” This is also the first year I have not worked in the month of December, longing for the Christmas break… yup, that just might be it!

I have not done much photography since the fall, but I wanted to experiment with taking pictures in low light without flash. In this the dark half of the year there’s plenty of opportunity to do just that outside and inside. I love coming around the corner of our street when it’s dark and being met by the sight of icicle Christmas lights on our house. There’s something very simple yet incredibly beautiful in those drooping lights which I wanted to capture. So I grabbed my camera one night recently—but not my coat!—and took a few shots. I am surprised at how clear they are, really, as I went out long after sundown. The pictures are a bit grainy in the bottom half which is further away from the lights, and I have to figure out if there is a way to avoid that. But for my first try I’m pretty happy I have this memory of our house at Christmas.

If it works outdoors, maybe it will work indoors on the same setting, was my thought, and what better subject to try it on than our advent wreath. Jan made it himself for our second Christmas in Canada, and I love the simplicity of it, too: the spruce wreath held up by four red ribbons, one red ribbon hanging down in the middle with a pine cone at the end. And of course the four candles evenly spaced between the four red ribbons creating shadows on the ceiling and the wall. We turn off all the lights in the house and sit quietly watching the wreath while listening to Danish Christmas carols. Sometimes we sing along. I am at peace for those 15-20 minutes… nothing else matters. I feel I captured the essence of this Danish Christmas tradition we have kept alive through all the years. Christmas just wouldn’t be Christmas without it, or without all the other Danish traditions we hold so dear at this time of the year.

I dare say… could that be a little pang of Christmas spirit I just felt?

Merry Christmas to all of you who read my blog and have encouraged me to keep going. I am blessed to have you in my life.