As Autumn begins to hit the Southern Hemisphere my mind has turned to nesting, candles, firewood, chimney sweeps, and soup recipes. The darkness seems to creep up on me every single year, despite a lifetime of winters to train me to expect it. The first biting days of fall come in, and I immediately wish I was a knitting woman, or the sort to put up all the fresh summer fruit into jars so as to have summers taste when the darkness arrives. I always think of it too late and find myself feverishly unboxing woollens and buying draft snakes to block the wind that rips right through old windows. The one thing I manage seems to be the shared meals that fill up my winter weeks. I hope this year will be no different.
“There is nothing that makes me happier than sitting around the dinner table and talking until the candles are burned down.”
― Madeleine L’Engle, A Circle of Quiet
“Open the windows and the doors, she shouted, cook some meat and fish, buy the largest turtles around, let strangers come in and spread their mats in the corners and urinate in the rose bushes and sit down to eat as many times as they want, and belch and rant and muddy everything with their boots, and let them do whatever they want to us, because that’s the only way to drive off ruin.”
― Gabriel García Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude
“All true friendliness begins with fire and food and drink and the recognition of rain or frost. …Each human soul has in a sense to enact for itself the gigantic humility of the Incarnation. Every man must descend into the flesh to meet mankind.”
― G.K. Chesterton, What’s Wrong with the World