The morning is pretty, bright and clear. Everything is still. It is in the low 40’s, warm by winter standards. The dogs are having their morning naps, not to be confused with their afternoon naps or their evening naps. I’m almost healed, but I’m still tired. I’ll join the dogs for an afternoon nap on the couch. This is a busy week, a busy uke week with practice, a lesson and four concerts though I won’t attend them all, maybe only three. I still need my tree. I’m thinking Thursday. I just haven’t felt good enough. The next time I hit the deck I hope it is during a quiet time of the year, certainly not at Christmas, my favorite time of the year.

My sisters and I say we got the Christmas bug from our mother. She always made the season so very wonderful. The house was filled with fun and unique Christmas decorations. The tree stood in a corner of the living room in all three houses where we lived. The nutcracker wearing red stood by the fireplace as did the Santa I needle pointed for my mother one year. The old ceramic Santa cups spelling noel for the handles and Mr. and Mrs Claus salt and pepper shakers came out every year. I found the same Santa cups and salt and pepper shakers and bought them. They are on my table every year. Santa has a curly beard. The shadow box above the couch got a small garland across the top. Every table had some sort of decoration. The dining room table groaned under the weight of all those cookies.

One of my favorite Christmas traditions was going to the Christmas fair held by my parish every year. It was at the town hall up the street from my school. We walked two by two by class from the school accompanied by the nuns. Once we reached the town hall, we were free. My mother gave us money for lunch and for buying some Christmas presents. The lunch was hot dogs every year. They had tables with inexpensive gifts. Some gifts were only a dime. My sister Moe bought my mother a Christmas cactus one year. It lived forever, even longer than my mother. It was on the end of the kitchen table by the window. Every year it bloomed with red flowers. I remember buying white handkerchiefs for my father. He always carried one in his back pocket. It was always rumpled.

Last night the mighty storm started. The rain pelted the windows. The wind shook the house and trees. I could hear the chimes from the pine tree branch by the back stairs. Its sound sweetened the air. The rain is still falling, but the wind has subsided. The morning is warm, in the high 40’s. I will not be getting my tree today.

The dogs went out this morning then turned right around and came back inside. They are not rain dogs. I have left the back door open in case their need is greater than their dislike for the rain.

Today I hope to start decorating for Christmas. I also want to write out my Christmas cards. I bought them last summer at the Edward Gorey house.

I love my Christmas ornaments. Every year when I put them on the tree they bring back so many memories. Some are glass ornaments from my childhood trees. My mother gave us each a box of them. I always put them high up as my cat likes to whack hanging ornaments, and now Nala presents a danger. She’ll steal anything. I have ornaments from Ghana. Some are bead people and a couple look like the round family compounds from up north where I lived. Every time I travel I bring back ornaments from the countries I visit. From Hungary are two doilies with designs in the middle. They are heart shaped. I have a wooden Pinocchio from a small toy shop in Florence. I have cloth ornaments from Peru. They are from a small outdoor market in Puno. A few ornaments are gaudy souvenirs. One is of Christ the Redeemer in Rio. It is small and round with a garish blue background. Another is a picture of the site at the equator. It has a shack on it, the same place where I bought the souvenir. From Morocco, I have tassels, two of them, one red and the other orange. Because Morocco is an Islamic country, the tassels were the best I could do. They hang from the ends of branches, and the bottoms sway when I walk by them.

I have several cloth ornaments. Some are historical figures like Abagail Adams and George Washington. A few are poets. Emily Dickinson is one of them. Captain Hook is always placed right by Peter Pan but never close enough for Hook’s purposes. Mark Twain and Sherlock Holmes are made of some stiff material. Twain is holding a book. I have a new one, Edgar Allan Poe.

Every year Christmas brings with it all of my past Christmases. Each one holds memories and dreams and even a few hopes.