and now begins December

Ed calls me from the sheep shed. We do that -- he'll be working on some project or other there and I will be at the farmhouse and we'll call each other with some trivial observation. Though perhaps not so trivial this time. He tells me -- you know, the door looks kind of nice.





He's referring to the string of lights I had him put up (with his height, he need only stretch his hand just a little and push the string over the frame). For a non-holiday guy, Ed is awfully agreeable when the spirit strikes me. Today, the spirit kept striking. Like when I decided to work on holiday notes.





And, in a repeat of last year, when I moved my now somewhat puffy (rather than svelte and erect) Norfolk Island Pine so that it can stand in for a Christmas tree.





Here it is, all lit up and, this year, it's sporting one decoration -- my daughters will recognize it as one of my all time favorites from the family set:





Oh, you see something else underneath, on the crate? Yes, there is a Santa and Mrs Claus. These guys were ornaments purchased when I (finally) embarked on adulthood. Year: 1976. (I was 23. You might say that I became an adult very quickly in some respects and less so in others.)





So, the farmhouse recognizes the season! Between the bells, the lights and the "tree" with its small trimmings… oh, too, there is a tiny poinsettia. Right behind Ed, who has just sat through a hair trim. Poor man. It takes me a while to work around all those curls.





I can't help the shirt. Ed's favorites can never be thrown out.