Trimming the house in light is how I’ve chosen to pull myself out of the dark-by-four-post-merediem slump: luminaries frame the hearth, blue tinsel on the banister, a strand of gold glittery mini-llamas dance from a fresh garland of pine cones and needles. This is my favorite season even in a year filled with precarious health and introspection. I need something to pull me from the jaws of my sick bed and into the other rooms in my house just as invitations to read and share my poetry and listen to the works of others help return me to the world beyond these four walls. And these little mason jars — a cloud of battery-powered fairy lights in their glass bellies — do just the trick. Late last night I awoke as I often do in a fit of heat (thank you menopause), stumbled half-awake to the thermostat, noticed the hallway aglow with the shimmer of these lights, and was filled me with joy.