Day 21 - Great Release Program 2025 by Silver RavenWolf

Day 21 - Yule at Booger Knight Castle

Grandpa Headless was already halfway out the stable door when Buzzy Booger came skittering up, bundled in a black snowsuit with sparkles that made her look like a festive licorice gumdrop with feet. 

“Good,” Grandpa said. “You’re early.” He climbed onto the Bone Wagon with the confidence of a man who had built it himself—and then, with great ceremony, he set his pumpkin head on the wagon seat between his body and Buzzy Booger.  Skeleton Horse stamped his hooves impatiently.

Buzzy Booger stared at Grandpa. “Um… why does your head always get the good seat?”

Grandpa’s body adjusted his gloves. His pumpkin head turned toward Buzzy Booger and—very clearly—rolled its eyes.  “Because,” Grandpa said, as if this should be obvious to everyone with a pulse, “it keeps the cold wind off my ribs, and it keeps nosy crows from asking personal questions.  Before you climb up here, be a good booger and check the storage chest in the back of the wagon.  Make sure we have everything we need for a safe trip into the woods.

Buzzy Booger grumbled and rounded the back of the wagon. The chest was packed with twine, tarps, lanterns, a coil of rope that could restrain a small dragon, a large burlap bag, a freshly sharpened ax, a shiny red shovel, and a thermos that smelled suspiciously like cinnamon and mischief.  “We’re good!” called Buzzy.

“Today,” Grandpa Headless announced as Buzzy climbed onto the seat beside Grandpa’s head, “we’re finding a Yule tree. Not for inside the castle, mind you—this one is for the Booger Knight Magickal Gardens. After the Winter Solstice Celebrations tonight and tomorrow, it will be planted there as a promise: that even in cold ground, life keeps its plans.”

Buzzy Booger gasped like Grandpa had just revealed the secret location of the cookie tin.  “But won’t it die if we dig it up and replant it in the winter?”

“Nope,” said Grandpa. “I already dug the hole before the first frost.  It will be fine as long as we don’t take it indoors and break its dormant cycle.”  He flicked the reins and Skeleton Horse took off at a brisk trot.

They traveled out beyond the frosty hedgerows, past the sleeping herb beds and the snow-dusted stone gargoyles that always pretended they weren’t listening. The forest seemed quiet in that sacred winter way—like the world had wrapped itself in a blanket of snow and whispered, Hush. Let the Frost Fairies do their work.

They found the perfect tree just as the pale December sun slid behind a cloud—tall with strong, fragrant branches.

“It’s perfect!” Buzzy Booger squealed, jumping up and down.  Grandpa’s body didn’t even turn as he took the shovel out of the chest. “That’s the first mistake of the season,” he said. “The word ‘perfect.”  He carried the shovel to the base of the tree where he said a blessing and gave an offering to the woods in thanksgiving for the gift of the beautiful evergreen, then he intoned a conjure spell over the shiny red shovel. 

“Red blade bright, with winter might,

Bite through ice and frozen night.

Snow part clean, hard ground give way,

Make a road where roots may stay.

By iron will and steady hand,

I open earth at my command.

No harm done, no blade shall slip,

Safe and sure in every grip.

So dig, so free, so clean, so true,

As I will it, so shall you do.”

He blew on the handle three times, tapped the blade of the shovel on the ground three times, then set to work guiding the tool as it did is important work. They secured the tree in the wagon with far more rope than necessary (because Grandpa believed in two things: over-tying knots and under-explaining directions). Then they started home, the wheels crunching over hard snow and Skeleton Horse prancing impatiently to get to a well deserved apple.

Soft, purple twilight turned to ebony darkness.  Grandpa lit the lanterns on the wagon while Buzzy held the reins.  Huge, fluffy snowflakes fell thicker and faster as they traveled toward the flickering castle lights in the distance.

That’s when the path got slick.

One moment the wagon was rolling along just fine. The next moment it hit a hidden patch of ice, wobbled like a startled goose, and tipped—slowly at first, then all at once.

Rope snapped loose. A tarp flew. The lantern bounced once and miraculously did not break (because even lanterns knew better than to misbehave around Grandpa Headless). The tree slid halfway out of the wagon like it was trying to make a dramatic exit.

Buzzy Booger yelped, bounced, and wound up in a snowdrift, cold bits of ice uncomfortably slipping down under her collar. Grandpa’s body grabbed the side of the wagon and landed in the snow with a soft whumph! His pumpkin head bobbled on the seat and slid to the edge, then snapped upright, sputtering, “You okay Buzzy?”

“I’m fine,” she sputtered as Skeleton Horse grabbed her by the collar and dragged her out of the drift.  “What are we going to do?” she wailed.  “We can’t right the wagon with just us!”

From the shadowy bend in the trail came a heavy clomp—hoof-like footsteps and a jingle of chains.

Buzzy Booger froze, her voice wavering. “Grandpa…”

Grandpa’s pumpkin head levitated, peering into the darkness.  From the winter-black stepped Krampus.  He was tall and imposing and absolutely the sort of creature you didn’t want to meet when you were already having a bad wagon day. His glowing eyes went from the tipped wagon…to the scattered supplies…to the tree half-in-the-snow…taking in Skeleton Horse nudging the spinning wagon wheel, then to Grandpa Headless.

Krampus helps Grandpa Headless set the wagon to rights.

Krampus sighed the long-suffering sigh of someone who had planned on terrifying villagers today but had been reassigned to Roadside Assistance.  Without a word, Krampus grabbed the wagon’s edge and heaved.

Grandpa’s body pushed. His pumpkin head leaned forward like it was supervising. Buzzy Booger helped by doing what Boogers do best: offering frantic encouragement and making a face like they were lifting a mountain.  With one last grunt, the wagon rocked back onto its wheels.  Buzzy Booger’s attention immediately turned to the tree—and her mouth fell open in dismay.

One side was bent. Not broken, not ruined, but definitely not the picture-perfect triangle tree-shape from every holiday storybook ever.  Buzzy Booger’s eyes shimmered. “It’s ruined. It’s not perfect anymore,” she whispered sadly.

Grandpa’s pumpkin head turned toward Buzzy Booger and—softly, almost kindly—did one more slow eye-roll, the way only a pumpkin head can: dramatic, exaggerated, and somehow comforting.  Grandpa’s body sat on a big rock and gently nudged the pumpkin head a little closer to Buzzy Booger. “Listen,” Grandpa said, voice low and warm. “Perfection is a fancy word for something that doesn’t live in the real world. Trees bend. People bend. Plans bend. That’s not failure—that’s living.”

Buzzy Booger sniffed. “But everyone will say it was my fault.  That I held the reins too tight and tipped the wagon!  And then the tree got hurt.  And it will never, ever, ever, be beautiful again!”

“Not at Booger Knight Castle, they won’t” Grandpa replied.  “They’ll see something even better than perfect. They’ll see real. They’ll see a tree that took a tumble, got back up, and still showed up for the celebration.”

Krampus tilted his head like he was deciding whether to growl, lecture, or awkwardly offer a cookie. He chose none of those. He simply stood there, silent and solid, like a grim winter uncle who pretends he doesn’t care but absolutely does.

Grandpa adjusted the ropes, then tucked a sprig of evergreen into the wagon.  “There,” Grandpa said. “Now it’s not ‘flawed.’ It’s characterful.”

Buzzy Booger stared at the bent branch.  Her breath hitching in her chest. Then a small smile crept across her face. “It looks… kind of brave.”

“That’s because it is,” Grandpa Headless said. “And when we plant it in the Magickal Gardens after Solstice, it’ll grow however it grows—crooked or straight, tall or wide. The point isn’t to be perfect.  The point is to delightfully be!”

He gave the wagon wheel a firm pat. “And to keep going.”

Krampus stepped back into the shadowy trail, clearly deciding his work here was done. But just before he disappeared, he paused and—very quickly, like he didn’t want anyone to catch him being helpful—nudged a fallen lantern back into the wagon.

Grandpa called after him, “Thank you, Krampus!”

Krampus didn’t answer.  But as he vanished into the winter trees, Buzzy Booger could’ve sworn they heard it—something that sounded suspiciously like a gruff, reluctant chuckle.  Buzzy Booger, riding beside the bent-brave Yule tree—with Grandpa’s pumpkin head steady on the seat between them—felt something nice settle inside her chest:  The sweet relief of knowing that you didn’t have to be perfect to be worthy of celebration.

The Winter Solstice Bonfire and the Ritual of the Season

That night, Boogie Knight Castle glowed like a warm storybook lantern. Outside, the Winter Solstice Bonfire was already crackling in the courtyard fire ring—tall enough to throw sparks toward the stars, steady enough to feel like a heartbeat. Snow hugged the edges of the stones, and the air smelled of pine, sweet smoke, and spiced cider.

The family gathered first—Count and Countess Boogie Knight, Aunties and Uncles, cousins and castle friends—then the circle widened as neighbors and familiar spirits drifted close. The ten little ones swarmed through the crowd like excited moths, bundled up and vibrating with holiday energy.

And there it was: the Yule tree, set upright near the bonfire.  It leaned a bit. It had a bend. It absolutely refused to be “perfect.”  Which, as Grandpa Headless would later announce, made it the most beautiful tree they ever brought in from the haunted woods.

Buzzy Booger stood beside Grandpa, watching everyone notice the curve. For a heartbeat, that old worry tried to come back—They’ll think it’s wrong.

But then the Countess stepped forward with a bundle of decorations and said, bright as a bell, “Oh I love it. Look—this tree has already weathered an adventure.  Let the decorating begin!”

The Boogers hung dried orange slices and cinnamon-stick bundles tied with twine. Someone added cranberry garlands that looked like little rubies. Tiny bells chimed whenever the breeze lifted. Handwritten wishes—rolled in ribbon like scrolls—were tucked into the branches: courage, peace, healing, fresh starts, and “please let my socks stop disappearing.”

And because it was the Solstice and the Boogie Knights do nothing halfway, Grandpa’s pumpkin head was placed proudly near the base of the tree like an honored guest—watching the festivities with a carved grin.

When the tree was dressed in all its brave crooked glory, the Count stepped to the fire and raised his hands. The crowd quieted. Even the children stilled, as if the night itself had taken a gentle breath.

“This is the longest night,” the Count said, voice carrying warm across the courtyard. “Not a punishment of darkness but an invitation of change. A reminder that rest, stillness, and peace are gifts, that the fallow time gathers strength and power… and because of this, the light always returns stronger, brighter, and sweeter than before.  We honor the cycle of change!  All Hail!”

“All hail!” shouted the crowd, and then the chant rose up again and again, “Bring back the light! Bring back the light!” The Count stepped forward, drew a torch flame from the bonfire, and lifted it high to the heavens. Above them, the stars glittered like a spill of faceted diamonds. Everyone tipped their faces upward, voices softening into awed little oohs and ahhs, just as a meteor shower stitched bright fire across the night.  “May all your dreams come true!” proclaimed the Countess.

“And they will,” whispered Madame SeesAll.

Each person was invited to hold their hands toward the bonfire and silently name something they were releasing: fear, stagnation, old grief, old stories, old expectations of perfection. Then, one by one, they stepped forward to place a small offering into the fire—an herb bundle, a pinch of incense, a bay leaf with a word written on it—watching the flame take it and transform it into smoke and spark.

Buzzy Booger clutched a tiny ribbon with a word scribbled in careful letters: PERFECT.

She hesitated.  Grandpa’s pumpkin head turned toward her and rolled its eyes so slowly it was practically a sermon. Buzzy huffed a laugh through her nerves, stepped forward, and dropped the ribbon into the flame.

It caught. It curled. It vanished.

And in its place—without anyone needing to say a thing—something lighter showed up inside Buzzy Booger’s chest.

Then came the part everyone loved most: the turning.

The Countess lifted a lantern and said, “Now we call back what we’re building.”

And so the circle spoke their quiet intentions into the night: steadiness, creativity, joy, resilience, love. The wishes tucked into the tree seemed to glow brighter in the firelight, as if the bent branches were proudly holding every hope like a promise.

Finally, Grandpa Headless rolled the wagon forward just a few feet, placing the tree where it could watch the fire—and where the fire could bless it back.  “After the celebration,” Grandpa said, “we’ll plant it in the Magickal Gardens. And when it grows—however it grows—we’ll remember this night.”

Buzzy Booger looked at the tree, leaning and decorated and shining with candlelight and laughter.  “It’s not perfect,” she whispered.

Grandpa’s body patted her shoulder. His pumpkin head gave one last satisfied eye-roll.

“Nope,” Grandpa said. “It’s exactly as its meant to be.”

“And above the bonfire, the sparks flared and lifted like a constellation being born, and in that moment the whole crowd felt it—the shift had already begun, and compassion, peace, and love were blossoming within them.”

Hail

Today’s Challenge!  Perform the ritual provided below, or create your own.  Reward?  25 Stars!

CandyWytch makes sure everyone receives yummy refreshments! There is nothing like the peace and joy of attending a bonfire ritual.

The Solstice Turnabout Ritual (10 minutes)

Best time: 10:03–10:15 AM EST (7:03–7:15 AM PST). But whenever you can perform it – that’s fine.

What you need”1 candle (white or gold is classic; any candle works)Small bowl of water + pinch of saltA small evergreen sprig / bay leaf / bit of rosemary (anything “winter-green”) – I prefer rosemary for this ritual.A small slip of paper + penOptional: a bell, or a spoon to tap a cup (for a clear “start”) and a cauldron and lighter to burn the paper.

The Ritual

Create sacred space by blessing the area and sprinkling salt water in the corners of the room.  Put the candle in front of you on a table or altar. Bowl of salted water to the left, evergreen to the right.

Tap the bell (or cup) once and say:“This is the turning. The dark has done its work. The light returns.”

Light the candle.Hold your hands near the flame (not over it) and say:“I welcome the returning light—steady, honest, and bright.”

Release what’s in your heart by purposefully breathing out strongly, thinking that with every breath is release.  Do this until you feel at peace.

On the paper, write ONE thing you are done carrying (a habit, a fear, a stuck story, perfectionism—whatever is true).  Fold it away from you.  Dip the folded paper’s corner into the salted water (just a touch) and say:“I soften this. I loosen this. I let it go.  I protect what nourishes me and release what drains me.”Then tear the paper into a few pieces and place them in a trash bag or bin (or compost if appropriate).  You can also burn the bits in your cauldron.Hold the rosemary and say:“In the season of roots and resolve, I embrace what lasts.”Name one thing you’re calling in (clarity, courage, consistency, joy, peace). Keep it simple.  Place the rosemary on your altar and use it in one of your favorite dishes over the holiday season.

Touch your fingertips to the salted water, then tap your heart (or forehead) gently and say: “As the Sun turns, so do I. I begin again—steady and willing.”

Let the candle burn for a few minutes while you breathe deeply and at peace. Extinguish it and say:“So be it.”

Booger Boost:  The Little Boogers gather close the moment you finish the Yule ritual, eyes shining like you just did something quietly heroic. Wiggle Booger clears his throat with exaggerated importance and announces that you are now officially “Light-Bringer Certified,” which is apparently a very serious title in the kingdom. Then Buzzy Booger presses an imaginary gold star into your palm and whispers that the return of the light isn’t only in the sky, it’s in you, because you chose compassion, peace, and love on purpose. The rest of the Boogers cheer, do a tiny jingle-bell victory dance, and declare that your inner flame is glowing so bright they can all find their way home.

Astro Snapshot

December 21, 2025 marks the Winter Solstice, with the Sun entering Capricorn, shifting the season from dreaming to building. The Moon is in Capricorn as well, and with a 1st Quarter Moon tone, the energy supports action, structure, and real progress, especially on something that matters long-term. This is an excellent day to begin a new project, not with frantic rushing, but with a clear plan, a first step, and the willingness to show up consistently, because Capricorn magic is the kind that lasts.

If you host a party on December 21, 2025 (Sun in Capricorn, Capricorn Moon with that 1st-Quarter “let’s do something real” tone), it tends to be a cozy, well-run, meaningful kind of gathering rather than a wild, loose one.

Capricorn energy likes structure, so the party goes best when you give it a clear shape, a start time people can count on, food that’s simple and satisfying, and an end time that doesn’t drift into chaos. Think warm lights, a steady playlist, a comfortable seating plan, and one “anchor” moment that makes it feel special, a Solstice toast, a candle lighting, a gratitude circle that lasts two minutes, not twenty.

Consider an early time, keep it grounded, and keep it intentional. The stars encourage practicality.  Don’t over-invite, don’t over-cook, and don’t over-spend to prove anything. Capricorn parties shine when the host is calm and prepared, when the home feels welcoming and orderly, and when everyone leaves feeling steadier than when they arrived.  Your theme for your guests is sacred space – make sure the “guest view” is clean, uncluttered, and smells amazing.

No-Bake Holiday Cookie: Chocolate Peppermint “Snowdrops”

Makes about 18–22 cookies

Ingredients 1 1/2 cups quick oats1/2 cup creamy peanut butter or sunflower seed butter1/3 cup honey or maple syrup1/4 cup unsweetened cocoa powder1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract1/4 teaspoon salt1/3 cup mini chocolate chips or chopped chocolate, optional2–3 tablespoons crushed peppermint candies or candy canes, optional2–3 tablespoons shredded coconut or powdered sugar for rolling, optional

Directions In a medium bowl, stir together the peanut butter and honey until smooth. Add the cocoa, vanilla, and salt, then stir until glossy and well mixed. Fold in the oats, then add chocolate chips if using. Chill the mixture for 10–15 minutes so it firms up. Scoop and roll into 1-inch balls, then roll in crushed peppermint, coconut, or powdered sugar. Press gently to flatten if you want a cookie shape. Chill again for 20–30 minutes until set.

Notes If the mix feels too sticky, add a little more oats. If it feels too dry, add a spoonful more peanut butter or honey. Store in the fridge up to a week, or freeze for longer.

Wishing you a Merry Yule!

Peace with the Gods

Peace with Nature

Peace Within.

Silver