Posted tagged ‘Christmas tree’
December 5, 2014
I have already been out and about this morning and will go back out later. The day is chilly but not cold, in the mid 40’s. On my journey, I saw people wearing all sorts of outer garb including puffy jackets, sweatshirts, vests, just plain shirts and one guy in a t-shirt. I was among the vest wearers.
Gracie just brought me the most disgusting chew I’ve seen in a long while. It was crusted in dirt. She obviously had buried it in the backyard and now had a hankering to eat it. She dropped it at my feet, a gift of sorts I suppose. I took it in the kitchen and scrubbed it. The dirt swirled in the sink then went down the drain. I dried it as best I could and gave it to Gracie who wouldn’t take it. Maybe without the dirt it had lost its appeal. A bit later she went back and smelled it and decided it was okay. She is now eating it beside me on the couch. When I put things away for safe keeping, they often end up lost for good. I should have Gracie bury them for me. She never forgets.
The tree always went in the same corner, where the TV usually was. My father would lie on the floor to turn the screws on the tree stand while one of us tried to hold the tree straight and upright. He’d say let go, and when we did, the tree would sometimes lean. We’d hold it again, and he’d try to tighten the screws even more, this time with a screw driver to turn the metal loops. When the tree stayed straight, it was time for the lights. My dad always had tangled lights, and they always drove him crazy. It would take him a while to untangle the mess of all those sets. He was never patient. Once he’d finished that, he’d check to see if the strands would light. If they didn’t, he’d try to figure out which bulb had died. He was smart about that and would replace all the bulbs then check the ones he’d removed one at a time. When it was time to put them on the tree, he was always haphazard about it. My mother would say let the lights drape from branch to branch, but my father never did. He just walked around the tree and put the lights wherever. His only Christmas responsibilities, the outside lights, the tree and inside lights, were complete. He’d then watch TV. The rest was up to us.
Categories: Musings
Tags: bulbs, buried treat, chilly day, Christmas tree, dirty treat, dog chew, puffy coats, screws, tree lights, tree stand, vests
Comments: 16 Comments
December 23, 2013
The day is warm but rainy and dreary. The temperature, though, is due for a radical change: from the 50’s of this morning to the 30’s tonight. I just hope the roads don’t freeze. The paper even mentioned the possibility of snow. If I were a little kid, I’ll keep checking out the window hoping to see flakes falling. It was always fun to be the first to yell. “It’s snowing!”
Last night Gracie was barking her intruder bark, and I could hear frantic knocking on my front door. I jumped out of bed and stood in the hall but heard nothing. I turned and saw Gracie asleep on the bed. I realized I had been dreaming so I rejoined Gracie and went back to sleep.
Yesterday I wrapped again and am down to two unwrapped presents. I like this leisurely approach. Tonight I’ll finish up and put away all the paper and tags until next year. My presents, from my two sisters, are in the living room. Some are under the trees and others are arranged in front of the table, an arrangement being a genetic trait. I remember Christmas mornings and coming downstairs and my first look through the bannister. The tree was always lit, and the presents were arranged in front of it. My brother’s gifts were to the left then came mine then each of my two sisters’ gifts. Santa never wrapped our gifts. That made sense to me as I doubted he and the elves had time. They were too busy making the gifts. Games were upright in front. One year my brother’s new bike was in the kitchen, a surprise. He was sent to get matches and did so in the dark and didn’t even see his bike. My parents sent him back and told him to turn on the light. I remember his yelp at seeing his bike. We’d each sit in front of our spots and check out our gifts one by one. We’d show my parents who would act surprised. I don’t remember ever being disappointed.
Categories: Musings
Tags: Christmas morning, Christmas tree, cold night, dark day, dreaming, possibility of snow, presents, rainy
Comments: 24 Comments
December 15, 2013
North of me is the winter wonderland. My sister, outside of Boston, got either 10 or 11 inches of snow. We got torrential rain all night. I could hear it on the roof. I have no idea why but heavy rain triggers the sensor lights in the backyard, the ones geared for Gracie, to go on. They stay on until the morning light triggers them to turn off. This is the second time it has happened. The first time I thought some giant animal had burrowed into the yard, but after 15 minutes, when the lights didn’t go out, I figured it was either a very patient animal casing the yard for dinner or some weird problem with the lights.
My errands yesterday were fruitful. I found two small trees, one smaller than the other but both perfect. They are now standing in the corner of the living room waiting to be decorated, but my back is bad so that may not happen until tomorrow, but I don’t mind the wait. The trees are lovely even without the lights and decorations.
I am not traveling north to see the play. My sister said it is miserable up there, really cold and dark, and when you add my back to the mix, staying home sounds like the better choice. I’ll watch Christmas movies and drink egg nog. I just watched Reginald Owen’s A Christmas Carol and now I’m watching the Muppets get their chance at Scrooge’s rehabilitation. It doesn’t matter how many times I see this movie I love it every time.
Christmas still has wonder no matter how old you are. I love the lights on my house, and I drive by the house sometimes just to look and to admire the view. I’m sure my neighbors, should they catch me, might think it strange. If I’m on the road and a house covered in lights catches my attention, I deviate my route just to see it. On my official light tour, I stop at Dunkin’ Donuts first for hot cocoa. Christmas music now plays the whole time I’m in the car. I sing along. I sit on the couch in the living room to read so I won’t miss a single minute of the tree. The season is short enough as it is. My two sisters always have live trees. I think it is built into our genetic code. They fill their houses with Christmas just as I do and my mother did. I remember she’d come down for the weekend, and we’d go shopping. She’d buy an ornament and say, “That’s it, no more ornaments. I have enough for several trees.” Well, she always bought more and always declared it the last. I have a couple of new ones this year. One is the official 2013 World Series ornament. The other is a sand dollar made from pottery.
It’s egg nog time!
Categories: Musings
Tags: Christmas lights, Christmas tree, cocoa, egg nog, Gene Lockhart, heavy rain, light tour, Muppets, ornaments, Scrooge, sensor lights, Snow, trees, wonder
Comments: 19 Comments
December 14, 2013
Cold, of course it is. This is winter. This is New England. It should be cold. Snow is predicted starting tonight into tomorrow but, alas, it will turn to rain here on the coast.
When I went to the driveway for my papers this morning, I noticed the tiniest of flakes starting to fall but they disappeared in a heart beat. I think it was a dress rehearsal. My to-do list is getting smaller, but I’m in trouble. I can’t find my date-nut bread pan, a special pan handed down from the 1940’s. I went through the cabinet, and the pan just wasn’t there. I can think of no other places I would have put it. Later I’ll go through that cabinet one more time. There was, however, a bright spot. In the looking, I did find the new Christmas dishes I bought on sale last year. I had no idea where they were.
The Cape Cod Times was filled with strange tidbits of information this morning. On the page called The Log there was the story of an attempted robbery. The man demanded the ATM money the woman had just gotten. She told him no, and he took off, fled the scene. Here is his description: mid to late 30’s, average height and slim build, a description which narrows the search considerably. I’m thinking it might be my neighbor. The security footage shows him with tape on his mouth. What the heck is that? The last paragraph said compensation will be provided for information leading to an arrest. Compensation? Someone got a new thesaurus.
We had a pick-up truck end up inside an unoccupied house, the whole pick-up truck, a 2007 Toyota Tundra. The house was badly damaged, but the driver was just fine. He declined to be taken to the hospital. The incident remains under investigation. I figure that’s a good thing.
Do not carry armed sock monkeys dressed as cowboys onto a plane. TSA remarked that realistic replicas of firearms are prohibited. Come to find out there is a weapon as small as the sock monkey’s. It is 2.2 inches long, 1 centimeter wide, weighs less than an ounce and can hit a target roughly 525 feet away. Who knows what damage that may have done in the hands of a crazed sock monkey?
I have two errands today, including buying my Christmas tree. I’m pretty excited. My house will soon be filled with the smell of fresh pine. I’ll sit in the living room and just look at the tree. I can never get enough. Is there anything more beautiful at Christmas?
Categories: Musings
Tags: armed sock monkey, Christmas tree, cold, New England, news, rainy, rammed into a house, snowy, thief
Comments: 28 Comments
November 30, 2013
When I went to get the papers, I saw the tips of the grass sparkling in the sun and my windshield covered in frost. It was a cold night. The sun, here earlier, is now hidden behind a cloud. I think it will do that all day long: in and out, in and out playing its own little game of peek-a-boo. It isn’t warm this morning. It’s 34˚.
The days between Thanksgiving and Christmas always seemed the longest stretch of time. The first couple of weeks after Thanksgiving were just like any other weeks only colder. They gave no hint of what was coming. The first signs of Christmas slowly began to appear. A few houses had lights, and the stores uptown put their Christmas decorations in the windows. Then the fire station was outlined in lights and Santa was climbing the chimney. The lampposts were decorated up and down the street, and the stage for the carolers was placed right on Main Street in the square. Just seeing all those decorations used to get me excited for Christmas, and the closer it got, the more excited I’d get.
My parents would finally buy the tree. It aways went in the corner where the TV usually was. The tree had to sit there for a while so the branches could fall. Those trees of my childhood were never all that full. There were empty spaces, but that made it easier for small hands to decorate the tree without mishaps. My father did the lights first. He wasn’t a patient man, and those lights drove him crazy. He’d check the sets one bulb at a time for the bulb that was out. If two were out, lighting that set was an impossibility until my father replaced every bulb. He’d then check the ones he took out and used the good bulbs for replacements. My father had no artistic sense. He’d just put those lights on willy-nilly. It always sort of horrified my mother who would then move the lights around until they looked symmetrical about the tree. She’d next drape the silver garlands on the branches. Then it was time to decorate. My mother put the big, beautiful bulbs on the top branches. We weren’t allowed to touch those. I have one of them my mother gave me, and I always put it on a top branch and think of my mother when I do. We’d pick an ornament out of the box and it was always filled with memories. We’d put it wherever we wanted or my mother would suggest a bare spot needing an ornament.
I loved decorating the christmas tree. Every night after that, I’d lie on the floor for a while and look up at the lights through the tree. They always looked magical to me.
Categories: Musings
Tags: Christmas is a comin, Christmas tree, cold night, decorating, frost, ice, lights, magic, Santa, town decorations
Comments: 10 Comments
November 12, 2013
I woke up to the sound of rain. It was earlier than usual, but I had a nine o’clock meeting anyway so I got up, started my coffee, ran out for the papers then ran back inside to a house filled with the wonderful aroma of freshly brewing coffee. I filled my cup and took the first sip. I can’t imagine starting any day without my coffee.
While I was at the library board meeting, the rain turned to snow for a few minutes, but at 37˚ it is still just a bit too warm to sustain the snow. I couldn’t be happier as I think it is far too early in the season for snow. On my way home the rain became sleet, giant globs of sleet. Gracie didn’t even want the window open. I was just so happy to get home and inside my warm house. It still smell of coffee.
We all have favorite smells. Some conjure memories of childhood while others bring to mind the people we love and miss. Places where we’ve been are pulled from memories, drawn by a smell. I love the smell of spring, of the earth and flowers and the first mown grass. I can smell rain before it comes. A summer rain cooling the hot pavement has a strange, easily recognized smell. I know when any neighbors have a fire going as the smell of burning wood permeates the air. Last year when the electricity was off for so long my house was filled with the aroma of burning wood, and it stayed for days. The pine smell of the Christmas tree fills the living room then spreads to all of downstairs. Sugar cookies baking always remind me of my mother. They were a Christmas tradition as was the decorating and eating cookies heavy with icing. The smell of turkey cooking in the oven at Thanksgiving draws the cats and the dog to the kitchen. They sit near the stove hoping for a taste. I never disappoint them.
I think that winter gives us a gift starting at Thanksgiving and lasting until the tree comes down in January. It is the season of smells mixed with memories.
Categories: Musings
Tags: brewing coffee, burning wood, Christmas tree, rain, sleet, smells, Snow, sugar cookies, turkeys cooking
Comments: 11 Comments
January 3, 2013
Winter made a dramatic gesture by sending us the coldest day and night so far this season. I almost said this year then I remembered how young the year is. It was 12˚ last night, a perfect night to stay inside, cozy and warm. Poor Gracie got sent out before bed, but she was out for only a minute or two. I think it was squat and run.
My tree is standing in the living room covered by a white plastic bag. It is ready to be taken outside and brought to the dump. I took off all the ornaments and the lights yesterday. I hated doing it, but it was time. To accomplish that task I had to bring up the bins from the cellar, fill them then slide the heavy bins down the stairs and pile them until next year. My back bears witness to all the work I did yesterday so today is a nothing day. The tree can sit until tomorrow. Gracie and I also did errands yesterday, and I carried in the bags of bird seed and cans of dog food. I figured I’d already done in my back so what the heck. I did leave the 20 pounds of cat litter in the trunk, but I’m going to need that tomorrow to change the boxes. I have designated tomorrow dump day and the old litter has to go.
My scrub pine, the ugly fake tree, is still in the dining room where it will be lit every night until twelfth night. I have also left some decorations around the house to keep it a bit festive. There is no rush to return to drab.
I’ve finished Mr. Penumbra and moved on to Merry Christmas, Alex Cross. Nothing better than hostages and terrorists at Christmas. The book is short and won’t take long to finish. I think James Patterson has caught Mary Higgins Clark’s disease of hiding a short story under the guise of a novel.
It’s a wonderful world when I can plan my day around the couch and a book. I have the whole day to do what I want. How lucky I am!
Categories: Uncategorized
Tags: Agway, Alex Cross, bare house, Bird feeder, books, Christmas tree, cold, cold day, reading, scrub pine, Shopping, undecorate
Comments: 13 Comments
December 21, 2012
Usually if I wake up, I fall back to sleep, but not this morning. I had no idea of the time as the clock in my room doesn’t work, and I haven’t felt the need to replace it. It was still really dark, but I got up anyway. The house was cold. I got downstairs, turned up the heat and made coffee. It was 4:30. The animals went right back to sleep. Fern and Gracie are on the couch and Maddie is on the table. Such lives they lead!
Winter begins in earnest at 6:15 this morning. The Sun’s path has reached its southernmost position, and tonight will be the longest night of the year. It’s the winter solstice. All the cold and snow before today has merely been a dress rehearsal. I have one sparkler left, and it will be my simple celebration on the deck to chase away the darkness.
I always think dark mornings in winter are the quietest times of day. Most people have yet to stir and few cars are on the road. My favorite memory of walking in the stillness of a dark morning was going to church one Christmas day with my brother. Our footsteps echoed in the quiet and we could see our breaths. We even whispered. A few of the houses were bright with light and through the windows we could see Christmas trees blazing with color. Our guess was little kids just couldn’t wait any longer.
I have a vivid memory of that dark morning. I remember how cold it was walking around the field below my street, and how glad I was to be where houses on both sides protected us from the wind. We crossed the railroad tracks, and the streetlights lit our way. When we got inside the church, we could hear the radiators, but the church still had a chill. Only the side altar was bright with light. A few of us sat in the front two pews. The priest said the mass without an altar boy. There was no sermon. The mass was over quickly. We hurried home.
Categories: Musings
Tags: Back to Sleep, chase away the darkness, Christmas tree, longest night of the year, sparkler, Winter solstice
Comments: 26 Comments
December 18, 2012
As I was walking downstairs this morning, I could smell the Christmas tree. I smiled. I love that smell and can’t think of no better way to greet the morning. Right away I went over and turned on the tree lights. They brightened the room and chased away the clouds and the rain.
Yesterday Gracie and I went about doing a couple of errands. She got her nails trimmed, and while I waited, I bought her a few surprises for Christmas. I also stopped at a favorite bakery to get cookies to bring to the library for this week’s Christmas open house. The bakery owner, whom I see all the time, was there and asked what I was looking for. I told him about the open house and the library. He said he loved libraries and then he gave me three packages of his cookies as a gift to the library. How kind that was! How generous! I am forever thankful for the goodness in people.
I got a call from my friend Bill who had somehow managed to track down Patrick, another volunteer with whom we had served in Bolga. I had looked for Patrick for a while but never found him. Bill found a story in an Iowan newspaper about Patrick and send an e-mail last September asking if the Patrick he’d found was our Patrick, but Bill didn’t get an answer until now when Patrick called him. Pat’s memory is a bit fuzzy. He barely remembered Ghana let alone any of us. He asked Bill if there wasn’t also a gal in Bolga. I can’t remember the last time I heard anyone say gal. Bill told him I was that gal. I had to chuckle as did Bill. I have Patrick’s phone number and am aimin’ to give that galoot a call. I’ll introduce myself as a gal he knew from way back when.
I have a story I like to tell this time of year about my first Christmas in Ghana, my very first ever away from home. I was homesick and sad. My mother tried to help so she sent me a small tree, ornaments from our family tree, brick crepe paper so I could make a fireplace and a small stocking to hang. I decorated my house but it didn’t help much. Besides, the weather was all wrong. It was the harmattan, the driest time of the year with a hot, dusty wind which blew each day and covered every surface in my house with sand. The heels of my feet cracked from the dryness, and I had to walk on tiptoes until the skin hardened. The only redeeming parts of the harmattan were the nights. They were cold, put a wool blanket on the bed cold. I’d leave all my windows open so I could snuggle under my blanket. It felt a bit like winter.
The nights in Bolga were quiet. They were bright with stars which seemed to blanket the sky. I was in bed trying to fall asleep on a night close to Christmas when I heard a small boy singing. His voice carried though the night air. It was the only sound I could hear. He sand We Three Kings, every verse. His voice was beautiful. I don’t know where he was. I guessed he lived in a compound near my house, but that didn’t really matter. He gave me one of the most beautiful gifts I have ever received. He gave Christmas.
Categories: Musings
Tags: Bill, Bolga, Christmas, Christmas tree, cold nights, Ghana, harmattan, holidays, homesickness, Peace Corps, sand
Comments: 40 Comments
December 17, 2012
A rainy dark day again today, but it is a warm day which makes the rain more tolerable. I need to go out to do a few errands a bit later, but I have a short list. Yesterday I had no intention of doing much, but I did. It all started with a potholder. I pulled one out of the drawer and found it had been gnawed. I was grossed out by the idea of a rodent in my kitchen drawer so I pulled out everything, threw away the gnawed and washed the washable. I scrubbed the drawer. In it I found a cache of rice from a bag of rice I had foolishly left in a cabinet. That beastie had to have carried each kernel through two cabinets and up to that second drawer. A feat of sorts I suppose. The rice came from a long time back so I doubt the beastie is still around. My cat has not cabinet watched for a long while. Now I can boast the neatest of kitchen drawers.
It was always an event when my mother made her Christmas sugar cookies. She had silver cookie cutters made from heavy aluminum. I remember a Christmas tree, a bell, a reindeer, Santa carrying his sack and a star. My mother did all the making, all the rolling and all the baking. We got the best job, the decorating. When the cookies were ready for our artistic touches, my mother would put on the table bowls of different colored frosting and sprinkles. My mother let us decorate any way we wanted. The trees, of course, were always green, but we decorated them with sprinkles and colored jimmies (the kind you put on ice cream which I know some of you call sprinkles. Around here they were and are jimmies). The sprinkles looked like sugar and were green or red. I’d concentrate so hard trying to sprinkle the red to look like loops of tinsel on my tree then use the colored jimmies for lights. Santa, of course, had a red suit, a white beard and a white pom-pom on the end of his hat. My sisters’ cookies were always thick with frosting. They were the heaviest to lift. The finished cookies were put on racks until the frosting was dry, but we each got to pick one to eat. Every time, we picked one of our own.
I have the same cookies cutters. One was my mother’s and the rest I collected along the way as did my sister Moe. I put the cutters out in a basket every Christmas. They remind me of that messy kitchen table, the bowls of icing and how proud we all were of our beautifully decorated cookies.
Categories: Musings
Tags: bell, Christmas, Christmas tree, Cookie cutter, reindeer, Santa Claus, Sprinkles, star, Sugar cookie
Comments: 16 Comments
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