Last night, was the night of the “Holiday Concert”, at our school. This is a huge event and requires months of preparation. I am happy to report, that all went well-and many shed tears. When two hundred children play violins together, those not prone to, will cry.
I drove home under a full moon with a full heart. I no longer drive at night, unless a real need arises. It is a common occurrence for country folks to encounter deer on dark nights. The deer act like squirrels and will dart right in your way. There is rarely one of them, so if you miss one, you better stop and wait for next ones. In light of this, I drove slowly and prayed. I pulled into the rabbit patch, which was bathed in a milky wash of moonlight. I stood outside of the old farmhouse for awhile, surveying the beauty of the luster on the territory. Even the leaves, that have been perpetually falling, wore a sheen and added to the scene. I felt so tenderly loved, to have been shown such a sight.
I almost missed the “early service” this morning. Thankfully, I saw the day break with a gentle, golden light. A mockingbird sang as soon as the light had dispelled all darkness and convinced me to write about it. I was reminded of a poem, I love by Oliver Herford. I always recite it, in early December. . “I heard a bird sing, in the dark of December-a magical thing and sweet to remember” …
A lot of tasks will be tackled this weekend. We started a list on Monday, and added to it, until, it was a lengthy and barely possible mission, for mere humans. I have started the touch up painting in the room, where that awful hole used to be. A pot of chili is simmering and inspires me for the noon break.
After the Noon Hour
I had not made nearly the progress I had hoped for, by mid day. At least, the chili was just right and lived up to its’ reputation, as a “comfort food”. I decided I would simply go from one task to another and hope for the best. On a whim I decided to make cookies. I was taking a chance on that, as though cookies may be my favorite indulgence, I am just not a good cookie maker. Christian bakes them perfectly every time.
A light rain was falling so there would be no yard work today. By mid afternoon, I had finished two of the chores and then did paperwork, which is my least favorite duty. The cookies, though not burned, were hard and such a disappointment. I am going to practice when things settle down-of course, that is seldom, as of lately.
I turned the lamp on before four pm.-it was that kind of day. I finished the dreadful job of paying bills and ate a hard cookie. I thought about Christmas .
This Wednesday, is our annual shopping trip. My Mom, sisters and I will meet in a neighboring town, as we have done for close to twenty years-and shop. This is never a frantic venture, but more like a visit, though we do get a lot accomplished. It is an ALL day event. Mama starts out, caring about every detail of her shopping. We all help her find the right gifts for the grandchildren. Mama wonders, is that the right color, does he really want this . . etc. By mid afternoon, she says “Just put it in the cart.” It is tiring. I do not shop much and I am quite amazed at all I have not seen, before. I try to avoid dishes altogether. likewise, candle shops, coffee shops and places that sell french milled soaps. I do spend a fair amount of time in bookstores. Mama will too, if they have a couch. If I see Delores, rummaging through bins of small items, I will head in another direction, as she is not satisfied until she has seen every item, often looking for four just alike. When she does find them, she may or may not buy them. Connie is no nonsense and sticks to her list in a militant manner. She tells us what time it is often. I must get my thoughts organized before Wednesday.
With my bed and shoes in the hallway, it is a bit overwhelming to think of bringing more stuff in the house. There is also not a sign of Christmas anywhere at the rabbit patch, yet . . .other than a poinsettia from the concert on Friday.-and the hard cookies. Hopefully, the ladder will be out of the way, shortly.
Tomorrow, I will go back to my list of tasks, with the fortitude, of Connie. We will do what we can and I will do my best not to complain, as I go along . . for it seems so very ungrateful. If I am tempted to act poorly, I must remind myself that truly, I have been given to, all of my life and I ought to take stock in that – and I ought to consider what do I give back? How generous is my heart? It is the Christmas season, after all, and a good time to think on such things.