The day before the winter solstice: in the morning after my alarm goes off, I open the drapes and gaze at the inky sky. Certain thoughts glimmer in my mind, and trail off to their dens in wee sparks.

The other day I spotted a goldfinch, perched on a shaggy fir beside the rectory. Its Irish name is lasair choille; flame of the woods, light of the forest. Afterward I sat outside of a cafe, sipping coffee while reading Jenny Odell on attention. Balmy at 8 degrees. Why stay inside, when it has rained so much, when you could finally feel the sun for the first time in weeks? I love the light and I love the darkness, equally.

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