Winter Traditions At Salem: Forevermore.

By: Clare Buchanan

Photo Credit: Clare Buchanan

The last two weeks of the semester at Salem College have a distinct, nostalgic feeling. The cobblestone streets of Old Salem are salted in preparation for the one inch of snow we may or may not be getting. At the mere mention of a “wintery mix” of midnight rain and sleet, Forsyth County shuts down its schools for the day-because if there’s one thing I know about Southerners, it is that they cannot seem to handle the snow. 

Juniper branches are hung on the doors of the old, Moravian homes surrounding campus- the soft, blue berries in stark contrast to the dark maroon of the wood. Cedar garlands are pinned to the white fence around the square. Pine wreaths braided with pine cones and dried orange slices are placed on the entryways of homes, lit candles in the front windows sending golden light onto the street at night. In the morning, before the sun has risen, frozen dew crystallizes on the leaves of holly branches near God’s Acre. Cardinals trot around outside the science building, chirping under the shrubbery. Swallows swoop down from the large elm tree near the koi pond, as chipmunks scurry underneath the slated stone, scouring away their nuts for the winter.

Lines of people gather outside the Single Brothers House on Main Street, bundled up with Lot 63 lattes in hand, waiting for Candle Tea. The smell of hot beeswax overtakes the streets of Old Salem as Moravian women dressed in bonnets and long skirts hollow out the honeycomb for any remaining wax, mixing it with raw beef tallow on the stove until it melts into a liquid. They feed the wick in through the metal tin carrier and pour the liquid in the mold to settle. The women leave the molds by the cold windows to cool, while they take long, wooden sticks over red tissue paper that they twist into a beautiful ribbon to pin at the end of the candle.

In a different room in Single Brothers, a group of Moravian men in green vests and red caps mull around in the basement, adding the finishing touches to the putz, short for “putzen”, the German word for decoration. The putz is a miniature recreation of Old Salem from the year 1800, meticulously hand crafted from wood, cardboard, and paint. At the very center of the model is a historically accurate representation of Salem College, the white pillars of Main Hall, the line of windows of South Hall, and Single Sisters right next to it. 

Photo Credit: Sophie Kazmierczak

The cinnamon aroma of sugar cake wafts out the back door of Winkler bakery, onto the wooden porch overlooking the steeple of Home Moravian Church, captivating tourists and Salemites alike. Loaves of sugar cake are hidden in the depths of the bakery by the stone oven and covered with warm cloth to rise. Sugar cake rises twice- once overnight, another time in the morning. Made with flour, salt, sugar, and yeast, the secret ingredient to sugar cake that gives it that heft and fluffiness is mashed potato. 

If you’re lucky, a hospitable Moravian will make you a cup of coffee and serve it to you in a porcelain, love feast mug. Moravian coffee is made uniquely by brewing the coffee, sugar, and cream all within the same pot. This is what gives Moravian coffee that velvety taste. Past the square in Old Salem, campus is bustling before the holiday season. Students scramble to cram for exams, turn in those final papers and presentations. And then, almost as if it happens overnight, the entire campus seems to go silent. 

For me, December has come to symbolize the death of many things. The season of joy has actually become the season of goodbyes, as last year I prepared to leave North Carolina for eight months to study abroad, and as this year, I bid farewell to our Assistant Editor-in-Chief, Sophie, and Assistant Photographer, Vera, (and our beloved friend, Cailee!) to go on the same journey.

That is the beautiful thing about Salem, and perhaps also its curse: history repeats itself. In Sophie, Vera, and Cailee’s upcoming journey there is the image reflected back to me of myself and Sam- the five of us connected by Sam and I’s journey abroad that exists only in the past, and the journey Sophie, Vera, and Cailee are about to embark on that exists as I am writing this only in the future, but when this is published, will exist in the current moment. 

History repeats itself. 

At the oldest college for women in the nation, we are enveloped and surrounded constantly by our history, the beauties and the atrocities of it. And on a campus this small, it seems impossible that you will ever escape your past. That decision you made when you were nineteen seems to be at every corner, and you may find yourself longing for the spring afternoon when you cross the threshold in the May Dell, praying to escape the hilarious and sit-com worthy confinements of “Sapphic College.” You can vow to yourself that one day you will leave this place behind and start anew in another city, and while that time will come one day, it has not yet.

The trivial horrors of Salem College’s tight-knit community are met with the pure joys of belonging as winter in Salem reaches its bucolic, idyllic, and romantic peak in the first weeks of December. For these moments, we are all one. Because it will never be like this again. At least, that’s what we think- until next December, when the cycle repeats itself all over again. That’s Salem College for you, after all.