Since hearing Cate Blanchett utter those words from J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Two Towers for the first time over twenty years ago they have imbedded in my heart and stayed with me ever since. Here is the quote in its entirety: ‘In this phial,’ she [Galadriel] said, ‘is caught the light of Eärendil’s star, set amid the waters of my fountain. It will shine still brighter when night is about you. May it be a light to you in dark places, when all other lights go out…’ I’ve come back to this quote over and over again in times of darkness, both personally and culturally. I’m leaning on it pretty heavily right now.

A few weeks ago I caught a glimpse of an evergreen tree that someone had bedecked with lights on the side of 103 heading north. It’s across from a pullover before the intersection of 103 & rte 10. Determined to see it properly I managed to pull over on my way home from a friend’s house last night and get a decent look at it. I can’t tell you how much my heart needed to see this lone tree on the side of a steep embankment lovingly draped with lights. I was able to get a somewhat decent picture of it so that I could post a thank you note in some local FB groups. Much to my surprise the person responsible for this moment of light reached out and I was able to give a more personal note of thanks.

Many years ago I read an article in a local paper about a lone lit tree on the side of a steep embankment somewhere on a lone stretch of a county route in rural Vermont. The article talked about how much the tree meant to people, both locals & tourists, how much joy it brought to those who drove that stretch of road at night. I remember thinking how wonderful it would be one day to either see that particular tree or find one somewhere else. Well now I have. Further into the article the author interviewed the landowners who were responsible for making this beautiful spectacle happen year after year. They were very clear that they wanted to remain anonymous, that they were not doing this for public recognition, they simply wanted to do something for others in a time of darkness.

Then a few years later, my first husband and I were in the car on a bright winter’s day somewhere around the base of Ascutney. We decided to take a side road in the freshly fallen snow. Then I saw it, a single bright red ornament tied to an evergreen bough with red satin ribbon. It was a moment of pure magic. Clearly placed there by a neighboring property owner but magical nonetheless. My heart skipped a beat in that split second. I didn’t even have time to tell my husband it happened so fast.

When I lived in Woodstock during my teenage years and into the first few years of college I would come home in December for Christmas to the soft glow of the star on top of Mount Tom. If you’ve ever seen it then you know how comforting it is to see that star. For many it is a beacon of the holiday season, a reminder to pause and gaze into the face of wonder. To just let yourself be in the stillness of darkness pierced by light. It will come as no surprise then that my absolute favorite moment in the LOTR trilogy is in Return of the King when the beacons of Gondor are light, One by one coming to life on the distant mountain tops. If you know me then you know I don’t cry, but this particular moment never fails to move me to tears.

As I write this it is a bright day of sun and clouds with a gentle wind. It’s the opening day on my home mountain of Okemo. We are less than three weeks out from the Winter Solstice, a day when the light is renewed and the days begin their slow return to a few more moments of light each day. I am listening to a holiday playlist on Pandora of traditional hymns and classical music that I have curated now for over ten years. I look forward to turning this playlist on every year during these dark days. I am not Christian by any sense of the word, in fact the opposite. I am firmly rooted in animism and the turning of the ancient calendar of holy days. Many of my fellow heathen kin no longer listen to these hymns and I understand why. I however cannot give them up. I still find comfort in the light that they shine during what is certainly this year a very painful chapter of my life. For myself they are a beacon of an intangible but ever present kindling of hope, just like the light of Eärendil.

To all the magic makers, those who work in the dark to bring forth light, I want to personally thank you for bringing a small moment of wonder to our lives. We need it, especially now.