Echoes from the Wander
22 December 2025
Winter Solstice.
A time of ritual—to rest, reflect, and feast. Rest and reflection require ritual, don’t they? I would argue the winter solstice is required as well—it slows us down.
My best rest and reflection come when I am intentional.
A lit candle. A faint scent of lavender or citrus. Calming sounds.
Intentional.
And this upcoming week—once Santa departs—I fully intend to rest and reflect.
I hope you will take time to do so as well.
For now, we reflect on last week.
Last Week
I was seasonally inspired to write a new phaiku, which promptly inspired a following poem. Both works rattled in my mind until I gave them life and sent them out into the universe as a seasonal edition of Poetic Drift. The two belong together, and I hope you’ll visit them if you haven’t already.
Seasonal Drift (Phaiku No. 22 and the Poem That Tagged Along)
And then there was the Muse’s ride-along with Rudolph. I’m not sure she’s yet willing to admit who was steering the conversation—but check it out (or revisit):
Wednesday Whimsy #31: Run, Run, Rudolph
The week ended with the fourth essay in the Star Archive series. It’s deeply rewarding to read comments that assure me I was heard. Thank you. If you missed it—or want another look (I’ve read it multiple times myself)—here you go →
The Crab’s Claim: Evidence After Attention
Behind the scenes, I’ve been cataloging my father’s poetry and ponderings—trying not to let them sweep me up just yet. I’m not sure how long the sorting will take before I begin the conversation: Dad, what did you mean when you wrote … ?
Slow.
This definitely requires a sustained, yearlong winter solstice.
What’s Next
The rush of holiday preparation is complete. Now it’s time to be still and embrace.
A gift to myself—the fifth essay in the Star Archive series—though I hope you’ll find it a gift to you as well. I still feel nothing short of awe when I re-read it. Not awe at the writing, but at an unnamed feeling of connection. I hope you enjoy:
Where the TeleScope Meets the Lyric: Sky-Poetry Today
It will arrive on Tuesday rather than the usual Thursday. I dare not compete with Santa—but I was also eager to share this one.
Other than the essay, there will be Wednesday Whimsy #32. No spoilers, except to say: Mrs. Claus chimes in.
That’s it.
Quiet.
Intentional.
No matter the season, the holiday, or the reason, my wish for each and every one of you is that you gift yourself time—with family, friends, or whatever else brings you peace and joy.
Let it snow. Let it snow. Let it snow.
(asking for a friend)
—Jennifer
JL Tooker
Shhh... this felt like you dimmed the lights and told the week to sit down. I really liked how everything kept coming back to intentional, like lighting a candle and meaning it.
The idea of a yearlong winter solstice made me grin. That sounds like the best excuse to go slow and not apologize for it. Sorting poems, not asking the big questions yet, just letting them hum in a box.
And the snow request at the end made me laugh softly. Very gentle chaos. This made me want to rest on purpose and call it sacred...