Tomorrow is Winter Solstice, Yule. The night before - the first night of Yuletide - is celebrated by many Norse groups as Mother Night.

I decided to celebrate myself this year. 

Mother Night is sacred to Frigga, to the matriarch of the household, and to women. Traditionally, the Mother of the house cleans it symbolically to prepare for the coming festivities, and the new year. Candles are lit, the Yule Tree is decorated, etc.

 I didn't do that, of course... Instead I lit a red candle for Frigga, and prayed to her, thanking her for the warm hearth, the safe house. While nights grow long and cold, and days short and mild, the home is still warm and safe. I asked her to bring the household frith.

The candle is still burning, for Mother Night as well as for Frigga herself. It's a strangely holy feeling, to have a red candle burning just like that. Burning for Mother Night, for the long dark of the Midwinter night. With luck it will burn itself out, but I may have to snuff it myself before I go to sleep.

Tomorrow comes Midwinter, and I have nothing prepared. (I really wish the rest of the Southern Hemisphere celebrated things at the right time of year. I have to move to England or something.) I will probably light the fire myself, and I hope to have time to myself to meditate in front of it. The trouble with Yule is that there's so much to do. There's the return of the Lord, the rebirth of the sun, and the Wild Hunt riding. (See, this is why Yuletide lasts 12 days!) I might do both tomorrow, or I might wait and hail the Wild Hunt another night.

We'll see tomorrow.