"Pay attention to the world." -- Susan Sontag
 

Ten Days to Christmas: It’s Glitter Time!

From “The Magic Show” by Vernon Scannell in The Puffin Book of Christmas Poems, compiled by Wes Magee:

After a feast of sausage-rolls,
Sandwiches of various meats,
Jewelled jellies, brimming bowls
Of chocolate ice and other treats,
We children played at Blind Man’s Buff,
Hide and Seek, Pin-the-tail-on-Ned,
And then — when we’d had just enough
Of party-games — we all were led
Into another room to see
The Magic Show. The wizard held
A wand of polished ebony.
His white-gloved, flickering hands compelled
The rapt attention of us all.
He conjured from astonished air
A living pigeon and a fall
Of paper snowflakes; made us stare
Bewildered as a playing card —
Unlike a leopard — changed its spots
And disappeared. He placed some starred
And satin scarves in silver pots,
Withdrew them as plain bits of rag.
Then swallowed them before our eyes.
But soon we felt attention flag
And found delighted, first surprise
Had withered like a wintry leaf;
And, when the tricks were over, we
Applauded, yet felt some relief,
And left the party willingly.
‘Goodnight,’ we said, ‘and thank you for
The lovely time we’ve had.’ Outside,
The freezing night was still. We saw
Above our heads the slow clouds stride
Across the vast unswallowable skies;
White, graceful gestures of the moon,
The stars’ intent and glittering eyes.
And, gleaming like a silver spoon,
The frosty path to lead us home.
Our breath hung blossoms on unseen
Boughs of air as we paused there,
And we forgot that we had been
Pleased briefly by that conjuror,
Could not recall his tricks, or face,
Bewitched and awed, as now we were,
By magic of the common place.


Here we go again!

Once upon a time, in the winter of 2019, I started a “Days to Christmas” project to experiment with photography, camera settings, and lighting techniques using various holiday figurines, baubles, and trinquettes as my photo subjects. It somehow (?!?) became a tradition, so once again, for 2025, here we have the first post in this year’s series.

Working indoors with interior and artificial lighting is a lot different than most of my photography, which is of course outdoors in natural light. While this whole project can seem a bit effortful at times, every year it teaches me something new, especially about how to manage light when — unlike outdoor natural light — you can manipulate its characteristics yourself. When photographing Christmas subjects, we tend to emulate how we visualize the season: contrasts between colors like red and green, bright lights against dark backgrounds, or explosions of colors and textures like those of a Christmas tree. During the first couple of years of this project, I typically took photos as night fell to capture those effects; with practice I’ve learned to manage lighting so that I can take photos during the day and simulate what we might see when the sun goes down. The photos in this post, for example, were all taken around mid-day yesterday, yet I (hope) I’ve managed to evoke the Christmas metaphor of warm lights opposing the darkness of winter — one of this season’s intuitively understood visual themes.

The poem I selected for this year’s first post reflects similar visual scenes, as its characters move from the frenetic opening lines to end up in the quieter “magic of the common place” — something that echoes the seasonal transition from chaotic first days to Christmas Day itself. Finding poems that resonate with the work I do for this series is as much fun as the photography itself, and there will be at least one such poem (and some prose) for all of the posts.

If you’d like to see any of the projects from previous years, here they are:

Days to Christmas 2024
Days to Christmas 2023
Days to Christmas 2022
Days to Christmas 2021
Days to Christmas 2020
Days to Christmas 2019

Ho! Ho! Ho!












Merry Christmas!

From “A Christmas Wish” by Edgar A. Guest in Prayers and Poems for Christmas, published by Ideals Publications, Inc.:

I wish you joy on Christmas Day.
Yet one day filled
with mirth and cheer
Will oh so quickly pass away,
I wish you joy throughout the year.

May peace be yours
when night comes down;
May every good which life can give
Be yours to bless your home and crown
The tasks of every day you live.

Beneath your roof may laughter ring
And love and merriment abide,
And may you reap through many a spring
The blossoms of the countryside.

God grant that you may wake by day
In strength, the tasks of life to meet;
May you go singing down the way.
And may your dreams at night be sweet.

Through every day of every year
This wish of mine I shall renew;
God keep you safe and hold you dear
And pour His blessings down on you.


Ho! Ho! Ho!

Below I’ve gathered all the photos from this yearโ€™s โ€œDays to Christmasโ€ series in one post, because photos like to hang out together on holidays.

Click the links above each gallery if you would like to see the original posts and the quotations or poems I selected to go with them.ย 

Thanks for taking a look โ€ฆ and: 

Merry Christmas!!!!!


Ten Days to Christmas: Peace in the Village



Nine Days to Christmas: Silver (and Blue) and Gold










Eight Days to Christmas: Red and Green (and Gold)












Seven Days to Christmas: When Nature Does the Decorating











Six Days to Christmas: Itโ€™s the Little Things!











Five Days to Christmas: The Sights and Sounds of Angels











Four Days to Christmas: Winter Solstice, When Snowmen, Owls, and Deer Meet in the Dark Woods









Three Days to Christmas: As the Light Turns



Two Days to Christmas: Les animaux de Noรซl










One Day to Christmas: Happy Christmas Eve!


One Day to Christmas: Happy Christmas Eve!

From “Those Last, Late Hours of Christmas Eve” by Lou Ann Welte in Poems of Christmas, edited by Myra Cohn Livingston:

All has stilled, Magician Sleep having cast his spell
Upon the house, and silence lends an unreal
          beauty —
A holiness that hovers over all. And as a bell
That has been long and loudly ringing, stopping
          short
Brings surprise (you lift your head to listen,
          knowing well
The sound has ceased, and yet you listen still) so now
A slow suspense, a mild excitement loosely coiled
Holds you, keeps you listening: unwinding, drops
          away.
And now, like children on tip-toe — lovely and
          unspoiled —
Come those last, late, lingering hours before
          Christmas Day.

From “Before the Christmas Dawn” by Hilda Lachney Sanderson in Christmas Blessings: Prayers and Poems to Celebrate the Season, edited by June Cotner: 

Just before the Christmas dawn,
When time belongs to me alone,
And all the household’s still asleep,
All creatures still in dreamland deep,
I feel within the darkness dense
A special Christmas reverence,
As in the hush that stillness brings,
I almost hear the angels sing,
while in my mind I clearly see
The Christ child stirring peacefully.



Two Days to Christmas: Les animaux de Noรซl

From “The Doctor’s Christmas Eve” by James Lane Allen in The Ultimate Christmas Collection:

โ€œElizabethโ€™s peculiar interest in animal pictures had begun during the summer previous, when the family were having a vacation trip in Europe. Upon her visits to galleries of paintings she had repeatedly encountered the same picture: The Manger with the Divine Child as the center of the group; and about the Child, half in shadow, the donkey and others of his lowly fellows of the stall — all turned in brute adoration. The memory of these Christmas pictures came vividly back to her now — especially the face of the donkey who was always made to look as though he had long been expecting the event; and whereas reasonably gratified, could not definitely say that he was much surprised: his entire aspect being that of a creature too meek and lowly to think that anything foreseen by him could possibly be much of a miracle.

“Once also she had seen another animal picture that fascinated her: it represented a blond-haired little girl of about her own age, with bare feet, hair hanging down, a palm branch in her hand. She was escorted by a troop of wild animals, each vying with the other in attempt to convince this exceptional little girl that nothing could induce them just at present to be carnivorous.

“The most dangerous beasts walked at the head of the line; the less powerful took their places in the rear; and the procession gradually tapered off in the distance until only the smallest creatures were to be seen struggling resolutely along in the parade….

“The meaning of the picture seemed to be that nothing harmful could come from the animal kingdom on this particular day, providing the animals were allowed to arrange themselves as specified in the procession…. All, no doubt, would have been glad to parade behind Elizabeth….

From “Christmas Legends” by Denis A. McCarthy in The Animals Christmas: Poems, Carols, and Stories, edited by Annie Thaxter Eaton:

Villagers all, this frosty tide,
Let your doors swing open wide,
Though wind may follow, and snow beside
Yet draw us in by your fire to bide;
Joy shall be yours in the morning!

Here we stand in the cold and the sleet,
Blowing fingers and stamping feet,
Come from far away you to greet —
You by the fire and we in the street —
Bidding you joy in the morning!

For ere one half of the night was gone,
Sudden a star has led us on,
Raining bliss and benison —
Bliss to morrow and more anon,
Joy for every morning!

Goodman Joseph toiled through the snow —
Saw the star o’er a stable low;
Mary she might not further go —
Welcome thatch, and litter below
Joy was hers in the morning!

And then they heard the angels tell
‘Who were the first to cry Nowell?

Animals all, as it befell,
In the stable where they did dwell!
Joy shall be theirs in the morning!’

From Greetings from Christmas Past by Bevis Hillier:

โ€œBats were almost as popular on Victorian cards as belfries and bells. They were to be one of the favourite subjects of Art Nouveau designers, though their basic structure is more Gothic in feeling. Maurice Rheims, who illustrates a gold goblet decorated with a spreadeagled bat in his L’Objet 1900 (1964), writes: ‘Ces animaux, chargรฉs de bien de crimes, ont fait en tout temps l’objet de lรฉgendes et d’illustrations terrifiantes.’ — [These animals, responsible for many crimes, have always been the subject of terrifying legends and illustrations.]

“But it was not until the nineteenth century that stories of the vampire bats of the South American forests reached Europe, giving the little blind flying mouse a reputation for sinister perversity most satisfying to the decadents: ‘Holy Roman Vampire’, [Oscar] Wilde suggested. The younger Strauss’s comic opera Die Fledermaus [Revenge of the Bat] was first performed in 1874.

“Batcards ranged from the jollity of these cherub jockeys to the near-lubriciousness of Emily Thomson’s: design [first postcard, below], with its disingenuous caption, ‘Thy thoughts I cleave to’.โ€










Note: The four blue bat images up-top aren’t real photos. I didn’t have any bat-baubles, so I used Adobe Firefly to generate some for me. Yet they do look like something I’d photograph, don’t they? ๐Ÿ™‚


Three Days to Christmas: As the Light Turns

From “Solstice Songs: O Holy Night” in The Return of the Light: Twelve Tales from Around the World for the Winter Solstice by Carolyn McVickar Edwards:

Oh holy night!
The stars are brightly shining!
It is the night of the Sun Childโ€™s birth.
Long we have lain in cold
and fear of hunger
But Sun returns
And the Earth wakes again!
A ray of hope:
The weary world rejoices
For yonder breaks
A new and glorious morn!
Sing and give thanks
Oh lift your voices high now
The Sun returns
Sun returns
to light the world.
Rejoice! Rejoice!
Oh Sun returns!

From “December Mist” by Morgan Golladay in Solstice: A Winter Anthology, edited by Dianne Pearce:

Sunlight reflects blue off the
banded mist, begotten by yesterdayโ€™s
warm sun on December earth. The gods of
soil and field slumber still,
cold slowly settling into their bones.

I walk the verge, waiting, watching….

I greet this Solstice
with calm, measured footsteps, waiting and
watching
as cycles turn.

From “Winter Solstice Sleep” by Clive Frobisher in A Poem for All Seasons, compiled by Robert Blackham:

As sunlight withers and day departs,
Night time claims the hills and fields.
Cloaking treetops in icy darkness,
Forgotten ghost of summer past.

Creatures bolt into earthy beds,
Spiralling into slumber farther deep.
Through the longest night of year,
Nothing stirs, time seems frozen still….

Through the winter they endure,
Dormant in subterranean cocoons.
Awakening with the yawns of Spring,
The creatures rise to start anew.




Four Days to Christmas: Winter Solstice, When Snowmen, Owls, and Deer Meet in the Dark Woods

From “The Bride of the Mistletoe” by James Lane Allen in The Ultimate Christmas Collection:

โ€œIt was a pleasant afternoon to be out of doors and to go about what they had planned; the ground was scarcely frozen, there was no wind, and the whole sky was overcast with thin gray cloud that betrayed no movement. Under this still dome of silvery-violet light stretched the winter land; it seemed ready and waiting for its great festival.

โ€œThe lawn sloped away from the house to a brook at the bottom, and beyond the brook the ground rose to a woodland hilltop…. Out of this woods on the afternoon air sounded the muffled strokes of an axe cutting down a black walnut partly dead; and when this fell, it would bring down with it bunches of mistletoe, those white pearls of the forest mounted on branching jade. To-morrow eager fingers would be gathering the mistletoe to decorate the house. Nearby was a thicket of bramble and cane where, out of reach of cattle, bushes of holly thrived: the same fingers would be gathering that.

โ€œBordering this woods on one side lay a cornfield. The corn had just been shucked, and beside each shock of fodder lay its heap of ears ready for the gathering wagon. The sight of the corn brought freshly to remembrance the red-ambered home-brew of the land which runs in a genial torrent through all days and nights of the year… but never with so inundating a movement as at this season. And the same grain suggested also the smokehouses of all farms, in which larded porkers, fattened by it, had taken on posthumous honors as home-cured hams; and in which up under the black rafters home-made sausages were being smoked to their needed flavor over well-chosen chips.

โ€œAround one heap of ears a flock of home-grown turkeys, red-mottled, rainbow-necked, were feeding for their fate….

โ€œThus everything needed for Christmas was there in sight: the mistletoe — the holly — the liquor of the land for the cups of hearty men — the hams and the sausages of fastidious housewives — the turkey and the quail…. They were in sight there — the fair maturings of the sun now ready to be turned into offerings to the dark solstice….โ€

From “Christmas 1949” in Christmas Poems by Dorothy Stott Shaw:

Saturn and Mars have met and kissed
And passed and gone their innocent ways,
And solstice-ward the pattern moves
Of lengthening nights and shrinking days.

Two planets blossom in the west
Like stem-less flowers of yellow light;
Westward the constellations move
In spangled splendor through the night.

Motionless in the shimmering dark,
Hushed in the hollow under the hill,
The trees stand tall to touch the stars;
The snow clings fast; the twigs are still….