Thursday, October 31, 2019

Move Close To The Fireplace.

Winter is coming, which it is, and isn't any sort of reference to Game of Thrones.

It's getting colder, the days are getting shorter with dark mornings, and the leaves are falling. I've already had a couple of icy mornings where I've had to scrape the windscreen. Firewood has been delivered, which means the Chateau Cameron is cosy in the evenings, and we're eating more soups and stews than in the warmer months.

Christmas, as a festive season, seems more real here.  Growing up in Australia, Christmas always seemed out of place. I remember watching The Proposition, the Nick Cave film, a few years ago. It's a gritty Australian 'western' and is very much a commentary on the hostile landscape and environment in which the colonists and convicts lived. Here's the thing - they simply didn't belong, and I seem to recall dialogue along those lines. One scene that stands out is the family trying to have a traditional English Christmas lunch in 40c heat while being swarmed by flies. It belongs firmly in winter, and is very much a northern hemisphere festival.

Oh, and that in no way, shape or form suggests I never enjoyed Christmas in Australia.

But once again I am reminded of Marigold by Steeleye Span. (From the Sails of Silver album) 

When the marigold no longer blooms 
When summer sun is turned to gloom 
See the forecast winter snow 
See the evergreen that lonely grows 
Move close to the fireplace 
Neglect the garden 
See the ground harden
At a ghostly place
The golden summer sun is silver now 
The fruit has fallen from the bough
The season moves to chestnut time 
Toffee apples, treacle and mulled wine 
Quilts and furs and woolens gay 
You wrap around you 
But the cold confounds you 
On an autumn day 
Stout and strong the walls of home and hearth 
Curtains drawn against the draft 
The rake has reaped, the blade has mown 
Nights draw in to call the harvest home 
The quiet of a heart at rest 
In peace abounded 
By love surrounded
Here the home is blest

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