Bedlam Farm Blog Journal by Jon Katz

It was a wonderful evening. It could have been a couple of hundred years ago.

Maria and I were sitting by the blazing Winter Hospice Bonfire we lit tonight out in the pasture when we were suddenly joined by a new friend – a full moon had just popped up out of the clouds right in front of us.

We were both getting hungry, we started the fire at dusk, a little after  5 p.m., and it was getting close to eight o’clock. It was so beautiful and warm – it was freezing just a few feet away – I suggested eating by the fire.

I said I’d go in and cook (I usually shop and cook) and Maria jumped at the idea, she said she’d keep an eye on the fire while I cooked.

I had some Grass-Fed hamburgers inside waiting for dinner. I shape them into patties, rub Basil into the meat, then soak them in Worcestershire sauce for an hour or two, and add salt and pepper.

I cook them in a frying pan (too cold for the outdoor propane grill) for about eight minutes on each side over a medium flame. I poured two glasses of sherry, cooked two sweet potatoes (in the oven at 450 degrees) for 35 minutes, and added some fresh organic grapes.

I added pickles to the Pita bread I use as a roll, and a few Tumeric and Lentil chips.

Maria brought out a small box of truffles that Emily, a fellow belly dancer brought her for Christmas, they were unbelievably delicious.

I got all of this onto a tray and brought it out to the pasture where Maria had set up two plastic chairs. Along with the sherry,  brought a bottled water and a can of Diet 7 Up, I drink it all day.

It was not exactly a pagan feast, but it felt like that to us, honestly, the food tastes many times better out their in the fresh aid and moon light by a warm fire.

I had to get  up to take a photograph of Maria eating dinner. I was sitting right next to her. I wanted to remember it.

The donkeys and sheep had vanished once the fire started, the donkeys crept back near our chairs to figure out what was going on. They don’t want anything to do with fire.

Fate kept hoping to chase the sheep but they had fled to the northern pasture.

Red and Bud were in the house, I thought Red was feeling the cold. I would not trust the Irish Terror to run around in the pasture in the dark. He would definitely try to challenge a coyote if one showed up. Bud thinks he’s a monster.

It was warm by the fire, and the moon rising above us was gorgeous, the food tasted wonderful out there.

We both loved this meal and the evening that preceded and followed it. The night could not have been more beautiful, the fire stronger, louder or warmer.

I am grateful to Maria for thinking of a Solstice bonfire. I would never have thought of it, but I will long remember it.

“This,” I told Maria, “is why we are here.”

This was a wondrous way to celebrate life, to mark the coming of winter, and Spring coming right on its heels. Here’s to the beginning of light.

Maria and Fate stir the fire, it was slow to catch on, but roared for hours once it did. Maria spent much of the afternoon hauling dried wood out of the barn where we had been saving it.

For the ancients, and for much of human history, the Solstice was a time to celebrate the coming of winter, with a feast and fires and dancing. It was one last joyous time before the  harsh weather, and it also marked the beginning of longer days and more light.

Maria and I both love living here, but the dark days wear us down sometimes, we are drawn to color and light, and I suffer in particular when it is dark in late afternoon.

The longer days suggest Spring. We are ready for winter.

Maria and I had one of the sweetest and loveliest evenings of our time together. We started a Winter Solstice Bonfire around 5:30 p.m., using dry wood, twigs and old fences we had saved in the barn for months.

For us, the Solstice is a time of renewal, the beginning of winter, the shortest day, the beginning of light and color’s return. It prepares for the harshest days of winter and reminds us of Spring, the growing time when the land returns to live and the gardens bloom again.

We hoped to light the fire on Friday, but it rained all weekend. Today was mostly sunny and dry, it took us about a half-hour to get the fire going, the ground and leaves were so wet.

But when it caught, it roared and sparked and we sat by it for more than three hours. It was cold 10 feet from the fire, but war in our chairs near it.

I cooked dinner and we ate outside, and then the full moon showed up and lit the pasture. This, I thought, is why I came up here, to feel Mother Nature and share a life with animals.

We waited until the fire was dying down, poured water on and around it, and came in. Red and Fate sat with most of the time. We kept Bud inside the house, he doesn’t settle like the other two.

The roaring fire was hypnotic, I was so happy taking Maria’s hand, listening to the crackle of the fire, looking up at the moon, we even had some sherry and toasted the winter.

We are ready for the hard winter. Our barn is full of hay, we have seed for the birds, a heated water  tank for the chickens and the donkeys, the barn cats come in when its cold and hang out in the basement, snow tires on our car, a woodshed full of wood.

Bring it on.

Pinhole Photo

Tonight, we’re lighting the bonfire planned for Friday, the Winter Solstice, the darkest day, the beginning of the light.

Today was longer than Friday, tomorrow the sun will be out longer than today.

For thousands of years, people lit bonfires on the Winter Solstice to signal renewal, the beginning of light, the promise of planting and Spring.

If you live with Maria, this is an important day in the calendar. Maria and I are both prisoners and warriors of color and light, the renewal is a big deal for us, a special moment, rarely noticed or honored in the modern world.

Maria is a pagan at heart, a wild woman and a strong one. She has been planning the bonfire for days, her enthusiasm and love are infectious.

The solstice has a lot of personal significance for both of us, so we’re lighting the bonfire at dusk tonight. We will celebrate our own rebirth and renewal, and the hope that comes with the light.

In our lives, we feel close to nature, and to the animal world. The darkness and light matter. This is the beginning of winter, but it also is the harbinger Spring, the season of renewal and light and rebirth. My season.

I want to say I wish all of you a year of hope and renewal, a peaceful and meaningful Christmas, and, of course, a New Year filled with peace and compassion.

We have some hard and troubling days ahead of us, but today is about hope, and I re-commit myself to the good and important work we are doing, to honesty and self-awareness, to creativity and to small acts of great kindness. We take action in the real world, every day.

Happy solstice to you and happy holidays. I hope to get a photo of the bonfire.