Work Text:
I. Summer
Summer, oppressively hot and humid. The crepe myrtle trees are in flower everywhere, lavender or white or bright pink. Grass and young trees grow luxuriantly, tempting deer and rabbits into the gardens to nibble.
The old wooden porch has seen better days—paint peeling, wood cracked—but the three birdfeeders are lovingly refilled whenever they empty. An iridescent green hummingbird darts down from above to attack a rival; they hover and wheel in the air like tiny duelists, long beaks at the ready. At last one drives the other away and triumphantly lands on the red-topped feeder to sip sugar-water.
II. Winter
Late December brings cold nights in New England, and the singers are all warmly bundled up. They make their way through the streets and stop in front of lit houses to sing their carols. The music rises up with improvised harmony and descants, making the night beautiful. Not all the singers are Christian, but it doesn’t matter; they believe in singing away the dark, for the return of light.
If a neighbor opens their door, the singers cheerfully take requests, then move on. They end the night by returning to the host’s house for hot mulled cider and potluck desserts.
III. Spring (Purim)
A group of women crowd the small kitchen. One rolls out dough fragrant with orange peel and cuts out circles with a drinking glass. The woman next to her adds a spoonful of filling—poppyseed or apricot—and folds the rounds into a three-cornered shape, pinching the edges. When each tray is full, it goes in the oven.
They take turns reading the Megillah aloud in English, while others add laughing commentary. When the villain Haman is mentioned, they hiss or shake noise-makers, or stamp their feet if their hands are busy. The kitchen overflows with fresh-baked hamentaschen for sharing.