On a whim, we headed up to Old Sturbridge Village this afternoon for their evening candlelight event, which we've attended several times (for instance, 2010 and 2011.) Amazingly, we got a table for dinner in the tavern, lit by candles and fireplaces. We munched on pounded cheese (which tasted subtly of cloves and orange peel) and crackers while waiting for lobster pot pie (Bud!), turkey dinner (Sis), clam chowder and roasted beet salad (Mama), and a cheese sampler to share as well as mushroom ravioli (me).
Then we headed into the Village to all the familiar spots. We immediately realized that OSV would have been a great place to have watched the meteor shower--dark and with an expanse of sky. It is dark and the kids marveled that the real 1830s would have been much darker still. We sampled fruitcake and gingerbread and candied ginger and sugar plums (this time, candy-coated fennel--ugh!), watched cider being caramelized with a hot poker, made tinsel and cornucopiae and a mulling spice sachet, rode in the horse-drawn wagon, played with a Jacob's Ladder and whirligig, listened to singers and musicians (one on a bowed psaltery, of all things), admired the creche, and learned about the history behind traditions such as fruitcake, candy canes, the Yule log, Christmas stockings.
We had thought it would be hard to go tonight. Mama couldn't even listen to carols earlier in the day, thinking of presents under the tree for kids who will never open them. Those kinds of thoughts just up and smack us in the head at times. But in the end, we welcomed the distraction and enjoyed the familiar festivity.
But we held a moment of silence before dinner and wished for all beings to be comforted. Isn't that what this time of year--be it Christmas, Hanukkah, Solstice--is about? Remembering the light will return even during our darkest of days?
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