“There is a Christmas song upon the air,
There is a joy innate within the heart;
An inner sense of peace, a holy light
Illumines life and sets these days apart.”

~ Edna Greene Hines

Holidays and other large scale events would probably come together more efficiently if I traveled straighter paths than I tend to. I would argue the way there would be a lot less delightful, however. One thing I know about myself is that the longer the list of my responsibilities, the longer my list of creative outlets needs to be to balance it all out. As my children grow they, too, seem to turn to working with their hands as the pace of life picks up. 

Moira gravitates to the piano between jobs and her new training program.  She pounds out old recital pieces, church hymns, and popular songs and loses herself in the music for a time. 

Kieran has become our go-to guy when a cabinet comes off its hinges or a shelf needs to be hung or an item assembled. He has keen engineering sense and seems to really enjoy the process.

As Alannah's semester was winding down she took breaks from studying to teach herself new crochet stitches, completing several projects. 

The little girls are no different. Though it's late December and company is arriving soon they convinced me to sit for an hour so they could try again to learn to chain stitch.  We tried last year but it ended in frustration.  Tess assured me this time would be different and she proved right.  Soon after, Abbie Rose said she had been watching closely and was certain that she could manage as well if I had another hook.  She too took off.

We dug out the craft boxes still packed from the move all these months later.   I hesitated for a moment as I handed Tess the yarn we found.  It was my Gram's last skein. Red wool which made up many pairs of mittens in the last century. At first I figured she would stitch a few minutes and lose interest. She got the idea to make garland, however, and before long she had many yards stitched together.  

It seemed fitting that my girls worked the yarn rather than it sitting enshrined and unused. It was part of my childhood, now part of theirs in a different way.

Our lists are unfinished. We are still plugging away.  We will get there in our roundabout way. This little side trip was worth the time. 

"One o'clock tomorrow if you can make it!"  

We hadn't gotten the memo from the piano teacher til last minute, but a quick check of the calendar showed us clear the next afternoon. Honestly, I wasn't sure if the children needed more preparation or if they would be nervous getting up to the microphone or if the recital pieces were ready.  Honestly, I wondered if I would appreciate a visit from a random child I did not know if it was me as a resident.  I had so hoped we would have an opportunity to reach outside of ourselves at Christmas however. So we went. 

They swore they weren't nervous but maybe they were 'just a little.'

Afterwards they distributed cards.  Every resident was gracious and engaged them.  

It was this though.  This joyful lady watched every performance with rapt attention and a radiant smile, the cards held tightly her hands.  In between children, she would glance back down at the drawings and smile some more.  

So glad we made it happen. 

Starting the morning with our traditional St Lucy rolls using our special family recipe. (here, giggle)

Read aloud here

"It worked!"

She was beside herself as she raced back into the house with the news.  "What worked?" I asked  "The letter!  It worked! I wrote a letter to Santa.  Tess helped me to spell it.  Then I took it to the mailbox and the mailman came and took it!" 

She had not let on she had this idea, but instead quietly hatched her plan, enlisting help where needed.  From the sounds of it she wrote a rather reasonable, if hopeful, letter to the old elf addressed to: Santa, North Pole.  No stamp, but everyone knows where Santa lives I guess. 

It was so, so sweet and we assumed the merry idea had reached its fruition with that postal pickup a few weeks ago. That was until the other day when Brendan came through the door with a letter hand addressed to Abbie…

“Christmas waves a magic wand over this world, and behold, everything is softer and more beautiful. ” 
Norman Vincent Peale

Lemons, rosemary, and vanilla simmering. 

Checkmate!

We are a little behind and the birthday boy is already a week into sixteen. Since this little corner of the internet is a place for me to make notes of those things I don't want to forget I am putting these here anyway. 

First it couldn't happen the day of the birthday because he had a game.  Then someone else had something the next day.  And EVERYone local needs to be there for cake.  It's a given.

So we finally get to cake night and it's late and we are punchy.  And for whatever reason my camera setting tester volunteer had made a muscle for me.  One thing led to another….

"What? You think YOU'VE got something there?  Why you're about to get a ticket to the gun show!" 

Yeah. 

They are unspeakably corny, but they are mine. : ) 

Breakfast at home right now usually starts with a last glimpse of the moon, an early riser to help in the kitchen, kisses goodbye, reading time. 

A slow easing into the day.