Midwinter

Cold winter morning.

In the bleak midwinter
Frosty wind made moan, 
Earth stood hard as iron 
Water like a stone. 
Snow had fallen snow on snow,
Snow on snow 
In the bleak midwinter 
Long ago.

That is the first stanza of a Christmas poem written by Christina Rosetti (1830-1894) in 1872. I know that Christmas is behind us, but I quote it now because Midwinter’s Day, the actual midpoint of the calendrical winter season, falls on February 2nd. So this week we will arrive at Midwinter’s Day, and it can be pretty bleak. Last Monday, for the first time this winter, we hit 0°. Most mornings we were in the single digits. Then on Friday the wind chill dipped to minus 3. Earth was hard as iron and water like a stone. With February, the coldest month of the year upon us, we can expect more of that. The forecast tells me that Nature will celebrate the approach of Midwinter’s Day by giving us more snow.

Christina Rosetti (she looks a bit bleak herself).

This Tuesday, February 2nd, is also Groundhog Day. I was wondering about Groundhog Day and how it came to be such a big deal – at least in this part of the world. So I did a bit of research. It came to us via the Pennsylvania Germans (all my ancestors on my mother’s side are Pennsylvania Germans. They are not Pennsylvania Dutch. The misnomer “Dutch” came because Germans in German are Deutsch and the Americans mistook the word to mean Netherlanders). In Germany the animal used to predict the coming of spring is the badger (dachs in German), but there are no badgers in Pennsylvania, so they substituted the groundhog, which they called grun’daks, “ground badger” even though it is a marmot and not in anyway related to badgers. The famous tradition says that if the groundhog sees its shadow on February 2nd, there will be six more weeks of winter. That might seem hopefully significant in some warmer parts of the country, but here in the frozen north, unless we do finally see some global warming, we will have at least six more weeks of winter no matter what the marmot says. Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania, 110 miles to the south of us, is the most famous place for celebrating Groundhog Day. This year, because of COVID concerns, there will only be a virtual celebration. Here in Potter County, the groundhogs will be in hibernation until sometime in late March or early April. We have a family tradition of watching the movie Groundhog Day every year on the day.

The groundhog.

The movie.

February 2nd is significant in another way – it is the Christian Feast of Candlemas. Candlemas is also known as the Feast of the Presentation, commemorating the day the infant Jesus was presented at the Temple in Jerusalem and the Feast of the Purification of Mary. According to Jewish law, a woman was required to present her child and bring a lamb to the temple to be offered as a burnt offering and two doves as a sin offering 40 days after the birth of a male child. The Feast of Candlemas was first observed in the 4th century, its date being determined after December 25th was chosen as the day to celebrate the Feast of the Nativity. Many Christian denominations bring candles to church on that day to be blessed. The candles are symbolic of Jesus, the Light of the World. In France they eat crêpes on Candlemas (Chandeleur in French) because Pope Gelasius I (who was pope from 492-496 A.D.) gave pancakes to pilgrims arriving in Rome. In Mexico it is customary to eat tamales on that day. In our church we don’t keep these traditions, but I find them interesting. And I like the idea of eating crêpes and tamales for any reason whatsoever. There is an old poem that connects Candlemas and Groundhogs Day:

If Candlemas Day be fair and bright,
Winter will have another flight;
But if it be dark with clouds and rain,
Winter is gone, and will not come again.

The Presentation of Jesus (from the Menologion of Basil).

The Presentation of Jesus (by Giotto).

The Presentation of Jesus (by Bellini).

The Presentation of Jesus (by Rembrandt).

So on Tuesday we’ll be eating tamales for dinner and crêpes for dessert and then we’ll watch Groundhog Day and brace ourselves for the second half of Winter.

Crêpes.

Tamales.

February 2nd is also personally significant to me. On that day in 1978, I embarked on of one my life’s greatest adventures. That was the day that I arrived at the Missionary Training Center (it was called the Language Training Mission back then) in Provo, Utah, to begin two months of intensive language study to be followed by twenty two months of service in Bangkok, Thailand. But two weeks into my Thai studies, my assignment was changed, due to visa procurement problems, to Kobe, Japan. And so began my love for Japan. That was also when I met a fellow missionary, also going to Thailand who was also switched to Japan, who became my great friend, Jay. We’ve been friends (tomodachi in Japanese) for 43 years now. I visit him whenever I go to Utah. We write to each other fairly regularly, and always on February 2nd.

At the MTC (LTM) in 1978, I am third from the left, Jay is fourth.

Japanese food with Jay four years ago.

A visit with Jay two years ago.

Last week was the full moon and it was a particularly beautiful one. January’s full moon is called the Wolf Moon. We had no wolves howling at the moon here, but I would not have been surprised if we did. Our skies on the nights it was at its peak were cloudy, but the moon shone through the clouds. On Thursday I was up in the middle of the night and the moon was shining through a break in the clouds. Its light glowing on the snow made me think of “The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow gave the luster of mid-day to objects below.” St. Nicholas did not appear, however. I grabbed my camera and stepped out onto the back porch stairs to take a photograph of it, but my camera is not suited to that sort of thing and it was below zero, so I didn’t try for very long. None of the photos turned out.

I had to be careful all week because of the condition of my back after messing it up last week. I had to get in and out of bed, in and out of chairs, and up and down stairs very cautiously. I had to have help doing the chores because I couldn’t carry the water bucket. Every day I used the far infrared heating pads several times and the inversion table I got for Christmas (bless my sons). I’m doing better, but still not normal. Or maybe this is normal now. I hope not. I have projects planned that require a bit of strength and agility. This week I will try to get back to my routine with my morning yoga and exercises.

On my inversion table.

My musical binge last week was Bach again, but this time I reveled all week in his Brandenburg Concertos. The six Brandenburg Concertos are masterpieces written for an assorted group of soloists and a small orchestra. The concertos were composed between 1711–20 and dedicated in 1721 to Christian Ludwig, the Margrave of Brandenburg. About 1719, when Bach traveled to Berlin to order a new harpsichord, he performed for Christian Ludwig, who then commissioned several works. Two years later, Bach delivered the Brandenburg Concertos. Such commissions were often quite lucrative for a composer, but the margrave never paid Bach for some reason. Music scholars believe Christian Ludwig probably lacked musicians with sufficient talent at his court and the concertos were never performed. They were left unused in the Margrave’s library until his death in 1734, when they were sold for 24 groschen (about $22.00). The manuscript of the concertos, handwritten by Bach, was rediscovered in the archives of Brandenburg in 1849 and were first published in 1850. They have been performed and recorded countless times since then. I first encountered them in 1967 when I was given a little record player for Christmas and a record, Walt Disney Presents the Great Composers. That record changed my life. It introduced me to Haydn, Mozart, Beethoven, Mendelssohn, Chopin, Brahms, Tchaikovsky, and Bach. The track about Bach begins with the Prelude in C from the Well-tempered Clavier, and the narrator begins to speak. After saying “Not Bach, but Mare, not a brook, but a sea, said young Beethoven,” [a paraphrase of Beethoven’s clever quote: “Nicht Bach! Meer sollte er heissen: wegen seines unendlichen, unerschoepflichen Reichtums an Tonkombinationen und Harmonien.” Not “brook” (in German: Bach), but “sea” (in German Meer) should he be called because of his infinite, inexhaustible richness in tone combinations and harmonies.] the glorious opening of the Brandenburg Concerto No. 5 in D Major BWV 1050 begins. And so began my lifelong love of Bach.

The album I received for Christmas 1967.

This is a recording of the track off that album about Bach.

This is a recording of the Brandenburg Concerto No. 5 by the Netherlands Bach Society.

Miriam and Hannah went down to the Thayn’s house for the weekend. They left yesterday morning and intended to drive home this afternoon, but the weather does not look good and they might wait until tomorrow to come home. So Stacey and I have been here, just the two of us. Last night we had dinner at the Shillig’s and today we rode to and from church with them, so we have had company of a sort, but I will be glad when the girls are home again. I spent twenty minutes with the heating pads when I got home from church. After lunch I’ll do that again. I’m sure that will lead to a nap. Stacey will have to help me with the chores later. I’m ready to leave endless January behind, although February will most likely seem longer – it always seems like the longest month of the year to me.

My Aunt Joyce amaryllis is blooming.

Dan