Sweet Christmas

We had a good Christmas. A different one, certainly, because everyone now has a schedule that has to be worked and planned around, and because Baby G is coming, but it was a good one. Each of us found our way, early in the morning, to the room where stuffed stockings were waiting, and opened them before leaving for church. When we came home, there were strawberry-filled crepes to eat, and then a few hours of baking or reading or doing nothing until everyone was once again gathered in the family room. There we took turns unwrapping gifts or delivering them to one another, searching under the Christmas tree for one with just the right size and shape and kind of wrapping paper, the one that we knew would create smiles and laughter. Throughout the afternoon, once the blanket under our tree wore only a dusting of green pine needles, and each bedroom seemed filled with candy and presents, each of us, except for Mama and Baby G, took a turn at the preparation of a traditional Christmas dinner. It tasted good and was a very nice ending to a very nice day.
But the peak moment of Christmas, for me at least, was when the gift of a little children's picture book brought tears and joy. It is an adorable picture book, full of coloured paintings, little sketches, and several pages with sweet promises of happiness and good dreams. And on nearly every page a very golden, very round harvest moon hangs from an inky sky, because it is Moonchild's gift for Baby G. The picture book is called  "On the Night You Were Born", by Nancy Tillman.

Words For Baby G

Every now and then, often or infrequently, a very, very good surprise comes along. Sometimes it is a bouquet found on a doorstep, sometimes a brilliant sunset viewed from a light-smeared hilltop, or sometimes something bigger and more exciting, or sudden and surprising. And occasionally, not every day, the youngest for thirteen years is delighted to find that in August there will be a new baby in the household! Our alphabetical  order now calls for a "G" name, and because he or she deserves to be called something other than "it" we have given the title "Baby G" to the seventh child (but only until we find a better name beginning with that letter!).
I'm very, very  happy to be an older sibling come August, and the months until then will probably seem extremely long. Or maybe they will be filled with other nice things to make winter brighter, to enhance the colors of spring, and to enliven that portion of summer that is spent waiting for Little G to arrive. For now I like to dream, because dreaming forms ideas, and dreaming makes me happy. I imagine taking the tiny hand of my little sibling, and showing G the wonder of God's creation, and all the miracles in the woods and fields, and in the sky of day and night. I can see, in this little portion of my mind, a little person cuddled up listening to bedtime stories or playing in afternoon sunshine. Or even learning the fundamental rules of living in the same house as our rather unique dog, Chesterton! That part may be interesting, it always is when someone meets Chesterton for the first time:-)
Happy Wednesday!

Thursday

The last full day of school each week, the time when a break is most wanted, and the day to be thankful for a good week, or at least the nice parts in a not-so-good week. But this one has been good, so Thursday is a day of gratitude. Even with Mama and Daddy (my helpers and teachers) gone, this week has been surprisingly nice, complete with a Christmas party, and cookie baking this afternoon. There is something extremely delightful about smothering a "hidden cherry" in nice, syrupy, melted chocolate and then sliding the whole sheet into an oven just waiting to bake Christmas treats to perfection. The party was good too; a few  people brought delicious snacks, and we played a very funny game of white elephant. 

Tomorrow Mama and Daddy will arrive here after their trip to watch our soldier graduate, and in six days the said brother/soldier will come home too. I think he will enjoy this Christmas a lot, especially after the past few months of hard work and difficult studies. We intend to make it a very special Christmas. 

Our tree is here - decorated with cherished little trinkets, each with its own dear memory, and the favored angel resting on top. Strung along all the prickly green boughs is a long thread of colorful lights that blink magically on and off at the right times each morning and evening. The house is also in its Christmas finery: stockings in place, books set out, candles in appearance and little ornaments settled here and there (seeming to lend a special favor to windowsills and counter tops). The only thing left still undone are the chains of popcorn and cranberries, or  shiny wrapping paper links, that will soon bounce across the big front windows. "Peace On Earth" hangs over the door, and, in our home of warmth and family, there is contentment. 

A Frosted Morning

Something green and something white...

Autumn greets December

And a stone rabbit admiring the sky...

Sunrise Pictures and a Cup of Tea

That first, faint glimmer has already come, and has drawn to it a whole aura of misty-edged, faded colors. The valley is still a twilit, mysterious land of silver-white sleep, but the sky has been transformed into a huge blue dome, slipping subtly out of its grey-cloud nightcap just above that western horizon of distant, rolling mountains.
I've decided that tea makes a nice accompaniment to a quiet morning. The flavors seem to melt into some kind of background music, blending with the view from the window. Mint dances with dewy, frosted hillsides, cinnamon is in the fir trees that are silhouettes against the orange peel sunrise, and vanilla is seasoning the mist and sky with just the palest thoughts of dawn. The steam curling away from my cup is that grey-blue plume of smoke rising from the chimney.

Just Another Perfect Day...

It's not quite over yet, by the way. I still have a whole afternoon to fill up. But so far, the title "perfect" has been very applicable. Autumn is slowly, gradually sliding away, and I'm enjoying the last few weeks of orange-tinted leaves, vibrant sunsets, scudding white clouds and crisp blue skies. Earlier today, as I sat atop a hill close to the house, I wrote down a poem in my nature journal. I composed it, or at least part of it, yesterday evening as I stood on that same hill, watching a magnificent sunset fade to a rosy horizon. And the moon! Did I mention that the moon looked exactly like it was made of sugar? It did. Here is what I wrote:

Oh, for an  autumn sunset,

The wealth of  ripened days,

The color and life of an evening,

Burning in so many ways.

Oh, for a crescent of silver,

For the stars that night is calling.

Into the depths of sunset and moon

I'm falling, falling, falling.

It's a little bit cobweb-ish, a little bit poetic, but isn't that the essence of  poetry? And I had a lot of fun writing it, enough that it's flimsiness is completely eclipsed by the joy of the scene it should depict.

Just as I finished writing it down, my handy little alarm clock rang, and I packed up my bag to run home, re-braid loose hair, jump in the car, and then ride into Monmouth for my piano lesson. It was very good, and  I returned with a couple of good practice techniques, a new piece to learn, and a fresh dose of interest, which should help quite a lot when it comes time to practice. I'm definitely looking forward to the new song, a sweet piece with an unusual melody, by Isaac Albeniz. It is "Capricho Catalan"; I have no idea what that means, but the music is beautiful, and I like it.

The rest of the afternoon I will walk (maybe identify the birds I saw flitting outside the window a moment ago), read, and complete my portion of house cleaning. Then it is into town for the Christmas tree lighting and a concert, which I think will be very good. Today has been another perfect day.