Eighth night of Yule

I went out barefoot with a bottle of Cabernet as the sunset became streaks of gold and pink, the half-moon riding overhead in clear sky, and blóted Skaði, Wulþor/Ullr, Rind, and Háma/Heimdallr.

D.O.P.-T.

We had a day to dry out, with a blue sky and fluffy clouds. I found two oranges waiting for me under the tree, together with nibbled-off rind from one still somewhere up there and two aged husks from last season. And when I swept and tidied in front of the house, a nest lying in the grass.