The Magic of December
December has entered the room, and here in Salem, it came in shyly at first, borne in on cold November rains. How quickly it's made itself at home, with a stunning full moon display followed almost immediately by a rather unseasonable blast of arctic air.
Yesterday's full, Cold Moon also gave us extraordinarily high and low tides - a small preview of the King Tides to come in just a month from now, at the beginning of January 2026. It was, admittedly, a breathtaking moon rise that I was able to capture yesterday, walking down Derby Street on my way to the wharf, and it struck me hard enough to take off my gloves and brave the quickly dropping temperatures and capture as many photos as I could. This is when I knew - the magic of December had fully arrived.
As someone who was raised in the north, with regular winter snows, I spent most of my life dreading the coming season. It's cold. It's dark. And I have to shovel. Or at least, I did. The last several winters have been rather snowless - a hallmark of climate change and the warming waters and planet. So imagine my surprise when, last night, I watched a brief squall of snow come through and found myself pining for snowpack. For meaningful snowfall. For once more hearing the hush of snow as it falls on the ocean.
It's true that I love December and always have, even if I haven't always loved the snow. I love the empty shoreline, watching seagulls dive for clams and oysters as a reminder that there's still abundance hiding below the surface, ready to be unearthed. I love the hush of snow falling on the ocean, so soft and velvety that the hush is its own sound. The stars shine icy and bright in a cold winter sky - hard pinpoints of diamond-like light that glitter in a way not seen in the warmer months.
Quite often when we talk of the magic of December, we dive immediately to Yule and the Winter Solstice, or to Christmas or Chanukah, yet my mind turns first to the beauty of the natural world. Watching the shoreline and forests - the trees themselves actually close their branches inward this month. The ocean wipes the beaches clear of snow at the tidelines, while the winds create drifts over dunes.
I do look forward to the solstice and the Yuletides, the lights and festivities, the gatherings and decorations (and the abundance of cheeses at said gatherings!), but the magic of December, for me, is first to be seen in the world all around us. Bare branches and cardinals, crows and windswept shores, glittering stars competing with the ice and snow - who can be the sparkliest? The magic is in the beginning of the end of the year, in the settling of nature, and also in the knowledge that, although the veil is no longer at its thinnest, this is still a good time to connect to the otherworld, the underworld, to pierce that veil when needed.
December is a magical month indeed, even before the holidays come upon us. So tell me, do you feel the magic too? Let us know in the comments!
Comments