By the time a small group of us gathers for our Advent and Winter Solstice retreat The Gift of Story in early December, it is probable that the U.S. presidential election will at last be over. Perhaps the ads, mailings, rallies, debates, harangues, solicitations, and...

What do we wonder, what will we hear, as we pause on this threshold, when the sun stands still? What have we received from the wild gifts of summer and held close, which we now let go? What new gifts will we find as we descend into the dark? What dreams will this interim time evoke in us? What surprises await us in the mist?

It rained early one morning, a brief respite in the dry spell; not a determined rain at first, it fell softly, a low patter in the canopy. Nevertheless it was a presence, a caress on my jacket and the stony path, gentle droplets condensed somewhere in the pale...