The trees outside are still there come winter, for you and me, for the beasts and birds that pass under and around the bare branches.
The Christmas tree inside? Beauty, unleashed. I could look at it all day. I hear that Snowdrop begged to sleep on the floor next to it. Her mom relented. The girl was enthralled. Ed often dozes off next to our tree, though I'm not sure he's feeling the same kind of thrill! Still, he tells me it smells nice.
By the time I reached my thirteenth birthday, such things as Christmas trees (indeed, Christmas itself, and, too, birthdays, or any celebrations) became too much of a bother to my parents and so there was a period where I had no tree inside. As soon as I left home to live in my own little studio, I brought back that tree. Small at first, but like the farmhouse tree, over the years it grew. Because, well, you just can't get enough of that twinkle, sparkle and shimmer, made all the more lovely now that you don't have to turn off the lights -- the bulbs aren't hot, the branches wont dry out.
December surely gets the prize for jazzing up your world significantly. Despite all odds. Despite the tough weather days, the lack of color outside, despite everything -- inside, there is something akin to magic.
Okay, but let's get back to the prosaic day-to-day concerns of a December day. For example, breakfast. You know that this meal counts for a lot in my book. My only regret is that it doesn't last nearly long enough and that I really have to work hard to resist having a second very large cup of milky coffee.
Today's breakfast was a bit of a mess, because Ed absolutely had to get through to someone or other for his machining project and so he came to the table with phone in hand. Never a good idea in my book. I sulked. "But I wanted to be there with you!" -- he tells me later. Well sure, his presence is important to me, but I'd rather sit alone with Christmas music than with a guy who is trying to explain to DHL that they mis-delivered something important. Too, that phone call lasted forever. I was done before he got it all straightened out. Nonetheless, it was a good, warming meal. Yes, it's back to oatmeal. The cold windy gray morning deserves it. And here's my bargain with myself: if I eat boring oatmeal for breakfast, I surely can spice up lunch with a plateful of holiday cookies -- all combinations of gingerbread and chocolate, which for me is a true taste of Christmas.
There is a threat of snow in the air. Just a threat. States to the east of us will get a wallop of the white stuff. We remain naked and brittle and brown. Winter, without the crunch and the beauty of snow. I stay inside. Ed works on fixing the ancient dryer. He comes up at noon: I fixed the dryer, but knocked the pipe out in the hot water heater. So, yes, you can dry clothes, but no, you cant use hot water. At all. He goes back down to the basement.
I head out to get the kids early today. With stops to take care of the most boring, the most trivial of chores. And yet, I like the drive. With music playing, brain on idle, eyes focused on the road (and on the speedometer!) -- December driving puts me in a trance. Is this what meditation feels like?
Kids... I get the question from one: can we stop for ice cream today?
Not today. Tomorrow. Can't have treats every day, you know that.
Then from the other -- But Gaga, if you go to the poor house (my oft used excuse for not going out for treats daily) then you'll become rich! I dont follow this logic, so I stand firm.
Please?
Tomorrow.
We will be so disappointed... Siblings united now. One front.
It's good to occasionally feel disappointment.
One: Please, please, with all my heart! With all my body! With the universe!
The other: Please go straight, to the ice cream shop. Please!
Guess who won that battle?
When I drop them off in the evening, I weave my way through a residential neighborhood to see what people have done to their yards in preparation for the holidays. It's lovely now in these early days of December. (By January I will have had enough!)
I pick up my bi-weekly CSA winter spinach, carrots and collards and come back to the farmhouse. It's so windy outside! It'll go down to 9F (-13C) tonight. I feed the farmhouse cats and the porch interloper. What's that I see? Snow flurries! Just enough to make the animals hide. We set up a hut with a heated blanket for Pancake, our interloper and the most feral of the ferals. The other two -- Dance and Friendly, are sprawled on the floor vents. (The three remaining cats stay in the sheep shed.) Like me, they like to keep warm. And what better way to do this but to cook soup for supper tonight. Ed pulls out the quilt for the couch. We settle in, grateful for the working furnace, the restored hot water, grateful too for the winter quiet.
with love...
