A Story for Winter Solstice

Across the world, no matter our beliefs or where we live, we all share the turning of the seasons. For those in the Northern Hemisphere, the Winter Solstice, around December 21, is the shortest day and the longest night of the year. Then, the days slowly grow longer. Many cultures mark this turning point, the return of the sun, with ceremony.

Among many Indigenous peoples of North America, the Winter Solstice is a time to honor ancestors, offer prayers, and acknowledge the deep relationships between people, land, and the natural world. While each tribe holds its own distinct traditions, one practice found in several cultures is the creation of prayer sticks (more at https://m.warpaths2peacepipes.com/native-american-culture/prayer-stick.htm).

The story you are about to read is inspired by the traditions of the Southwest Native American tribes. While it is a work of fiction, I have endeavored to incorporate accurate details about Native American solstice traditions and prayer sticks. I share this story with deep respect and gratitude for the people whose ancestors have cared for this land since time immemorial. My hope is that, through this story, readers feel inspired to honor this special time of year in their own meaningful way.

 The Story….

Once upon a time, there was a little girl named Morning Fawn who lived in a small village. Her home was made of willow and tule mats, and she shared it with her two younger brothers, her mother and father, and her grandmother, Nokomis.

It was late fall. Each day grew shorter and each night stretched a little longer. The long nights were cold, but the brief days were warm under the sun.

One chilly morning, Nokomis called Morning Fawn to her side and handed her a warm cup of pine needle tea. It was bright and lemony. Morning Fawn held it close to her heart, wrapping her fingers around the cup to warm them. As she sipped, Nokomis said, “It is almost time for our solstice celebration. In four days, we will gather and plant our prayer sticks. This year, Granddaughter, you are old enough to make a prayer stick of your own.”

Morning Fawn knew this was a great honor. “Nokomis,” she asked, “how do I make a prayer stick?”

“First,” Nokomis said, “you must find a stick. But not just any stick. It must be straight, as long as your arm from fingertip to elbow. It must come from deadwood. And finally, it must come from the right tree.”

“What is the right tree?” Morning Fawn asked.

“You will know when you find it,” Nokomis replied. “Now go, and bring the stick to me before the sun sleeps tonight.”

Morning Fawn searched the village for a stick. There were very few lying around as any wood in the village was quickly used for fire or tools. She turned to the trees nearby. She saw the old oak with its rough bark and low branches she and her brother Laughing Coyote loved to climb. She found a few fallen branches beneath it, but none were straight. I don’t think this one is right, she thought.

Near the oak grew toyon and laurel sumac. Beautiful plants, but more like shrubs, and none of their fallen limbs were long enough. Hmmm… trees… I love the sycamore we climb. Maybe that’s the right tree.

She ran to the sycamore and climbed up. From her favorite perch, she scanned the ground for a straight stick. Her hand rested on the smooth, patchy bark. She felt warm and safe in her tree. This must be the one, she thought. But every branch she saw below was bent, twisted, or far too short. She hopped down and searched the ground again. Nothing. I guess this isn’t right either.

She followed the trail. She passed elderberry. No way. Too sacred, she thought. She saw the cottonwood with its fluttering leaves, and the alder with its watching “eyes.” She found a few sticks that were both long or straight enough, but none felt right. She kept walking.

What other trees are there? Willow? Mule fat? YES! They have great straight branches! Morning Fawn started running toward the creek where the water-loving plants grew.

Just then she heard a loud plop. She froze. A pinecone rolled to her feet. There weren’t many pines near the village, and she remembered the pine needle tea from that morning. I should bring Nokomis some fresh needles, she thought.

She walked toward the pine tree, looking up for new green needles, the sweet, lemony ones good to eat. As she reached out, she felt something under her foot. A fallen pine branch. Straight as an arrow. She held it against her arm: fingertip to elbow. The perfect size.

But is this the right tree? she wondered. She thought about the tea, the needles and how she never climbed this tree because it dropped its lower limbs. She thought about the pine needle baskets she made, the pine pitch salve, the pine pitch glue. She held the branch close and breathed its scent. The delicious pine smell made her heart smile.

This is it! she thought, running back to the village. Nokomis saw the joy in her eyes and knew Morning Fawn had found her “right” tree.

That night by the fire, Morning Fawn stripped away the remaining bark and began carving symbols into the branch: suns, spirals, moons, adding lines and details to connect them all.

The next morning over tea, Morning Fawn asked, “What’s the next step in making my prayer stick?”

“You need a feather,” Nokomis said. “A feather to carry your wishes high to the spirits.”

“Any feather, Grandmother?”

Nokomis smiled. “Morning Fawn, I think you already know the answer.”

So Morning Fawn began her search for the right feather. She knew all the birds and their feathers. She searched the sky, the trees, the tall grasses, the ground. It amazed her how hard it was to find a feather when you’re actually looking for one.

Tired, she sighed. This is impossible. I’ll just take a feather from my ceremony clothes. She hurried home and found her favorite hawk feather. She brought it to Nokomis proudly.

Nokomis asked where it came from. When Morning Fawn told her, Nokomis shook her head gently. “This feather already has a purpose; to be part of your ceremony clothes. You must find the feather whose purpose is to carry your wishes to the spirits.”

Morning Fawn sighed, put the feather away, and returned to the trails.

She walked to the cliffs where the turkey vultures rode the warm thermals. She sat and watched them glide, feeling peaceful. She wished she could fly, too. The warm sun rested on her face.

After a few minutes, she felt a sudden coolness as a shadow passed over her. When she opened her eyes, sunlight returned and beside her lay a large feather. A turkey vulture feather. She picked it up, smiled, whispered her gratitude, and skipped home.

The next morning, Nokomis told her the next phase: to find a bone, fur, or tooth from an animal she felt connected to. Morning Fawn searched again. Rabbit fur was easy to find as plenty caught on prickly bushes, but it didn’t feel right.

After a long hike she returned to Nokomis, explaining she’d only found rabbit, powerful and wonderful as it was, yet she felt no connection.

“Do you have another animal in mind?” Nokomis asked.

Morning Fawn hesitated, then admitted she wanted to use the coyote skull she had found last spring. Nokomis reminded her that the prayer stick was a gift to the land and the spirits. Was she willing to give up her treasured skull? Morning Fawn thought of its perfect teeth, its eye sockets, its beautiful shape… and slowly nodded. “Yes. It’s time to return the skull to the animal spirits.”

That night by the fire, Morning Fawn continued to carved her pine stick with the feather and skull beside her.

The next morning, Nokomis gave her a bit of buckskin and a pinch of tobacco. She told Morning Fawn to attach the skull, feather, tobacco, and buckskin to the stick while thinking about the year that had passed and the one to come. “Take your time,” she said. “Attaching the parts is the most important step. This is when your wishes travel into the stick to be carried to the spirits.”

That evening was solstice, the longest night of the year. Morning Fawn and the whole village honored the darkness. It was a time of rest. All life needs rest, and this deep darkness was necessary. The village slept with the sun in its long slumber, and awoke with it the next morning.

Before any words or food, everyone gathered silently at the hilltop to greet the rising sun. They dug small holes with their digging sticks and placed their prayer sticks gently into the earth. As each person finished, they stood in a silent circle, waiting for the others.

When all were ready, Nokomis began to sing, and the village joined her. Through song they welcomed the sun and the new year. Each day from then on, the sun would stay awake a little longer until midsummer, when light would stretch long into the evening.

As they sang, they offered gratitude for the past year and asked for rain, sunshine, plentiful food, and good health in the year ahead. They asked the spirits of earth, wind, water, and air to hear their wishes. When the song ended and the quiet settled, the people returned to the village, hopeful for all the new year would bring.

Stars and Moon and Sun, Now my story is done.