If Candlemas Day be fair and bright,
Winter will have another fight;
But if Candlemas Day be clouds and rain,
Winter is gone, and will not come again.
~Old Rhyme

Around New Year’s when my husband wants to take down the tree, I say no, and try to put it off until Twelfth Night.

When Twelfth Night rolls around, and the following weekend arrives, he tries again, but I come up with but we didn’t put the tree up until late, let’s leave it another week.

And then why don’t we just leave it until Martin Luther King Day. Isn’t that what we always do? (We do, but I can’t remember why.)

This year, we got the tree down about a week ago.

Today, however is Candlemas. Or the feast of the presentation of the Lord. Or forty days after His birth when Mary, his mother goes to the temple now that she’s purified after giving birth to Jesus.

The nights are shorter, the days longer. Spring is just around the corner; if we can get through the next few weeks. The sun is bright if not warm. (I need my sunglasses more in the winter than in the summer in fact.)

With more natural light, we use less artificial light. We’re also brightened a bit more. Smiling a bit more. Less aggravated; more tolerant. Even that little bit helps, and it gets more and more as each day passes with its lengthening sunlit afternoons.

I’m thinking that we could have left the tree up another week and it would have been alright.

I’ll have to try that next year now that I’ve put Candlemas on my calendar again.

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