Candlemas Day

End now the white-loaf and the pie,
And let all sports with Christmas die.

It's Candlemas Day -- Christmas is officially over. You've got to have all the Christmas decor, especially the greenery, down by today or, um, well, or else. You might see goblins say The Poet and a thousand or so years of tradition.

Down with the rosemary, and so
Down with the bays and mistletoe;
Down with the holly, ivy, all
Wherewith ye deck's the Christmas hall;
That so the superstitious find
Not one least branch there left behind:
For look! How many leaves there be
Neglected there, Maids, trust to me,
So many goblins you shall see.

But even without the white loaf and the pie it's not actually penitential season yet. Why, we've two and half weeks worth of time-after-Epiphany-green-vestment season in which to catch our breath before it's even Septuagesima Sunday. Time enough then to think about penance.

Think I'll see what's in the fridge. I know there's some cold roast. Don't know about pie. . . . .