Yule

Today is the winter solstice. I like to make a cake because, well, I like cake, and I can understand why ancient peoples were straining at this point for some warmth, sunlight and jocularity. Try this site for some winter solstice info. Now, because I always like the feeling this poem gives me and it mentions the shortest day of the year.

Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening
by Robert Frost

Whose woods these are I think I know
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
And miles to go before I sleep.