The kings and the camels are gone, indeed; the shepherds are, in fact, back with their flocks. What am I doing that might be equal to the title of 'the work of Christmas'? No, I'm not going to pursue that line…not to worry. But we have come swinging round the corner of the old year and are now a week into 2015 (What a ridiculous looking number for a year! Seriously.) Have I made any New Year resolutions? No. Waste of time.
Since the temperature has been yo-yoing between upper thirties and lower teens for the past week or so, I have been keeping the faucets dripping, the cats fed, the mice at bay (yea!!), and the home fires burning, as the old saying goes. We are having winter this year; not snow, but unquestionably cold and plenty of it.
The spice shop has regained its balance and continues to sail into a quartering wind. There is always much to do. No one I know is presently in the hospital…knock on wood. The earth and all of its smallest creatures are deep into a cold slumber; curled with their backs to the sun. Since my renter did not plant wheat in the field next to my house this year, there is nothing at all of color around here to break the monotony of tawny, winter drab except the bright Cardinals, flitting amongst the reaching arms of trees. I have four pair staying close to the house, chipping into the bright air, keeping me on task.
But I didn't.
I did show them the moon through the window, but we couldn't go outside. It was too cold and they were already in pjs with no shoes on. Sad face.
Maggie and Everett, to their credit, did find shoes and coats and went running around the backyard in the darkness. The moon was not yet coming into view then, however, but it was a good thing that they were willing to run, unafraid into the darkness of their back yard. Sometimes I have to set aside things that I would gladly do in a moment, things I want badly to do with my grandkids, because I know their parents will not be happy about us doing them. Sometimes I do them anyway and let the chips fall where they may, like the time I took Brendan outside in his pjs, when he was three, and we stood on the patio in the moonlight and made up a song about wishing the starlight goodnight. I'm pretty sure his dad thought he should have been in bed rather than outside in the darkness. But the moonlight was so glorious! The stars were out there singing and surely needed an audience.
I felt especially horrible when, while I was reading a book to Zane later last evening, he leaned close and whispered to me, "We could put on our shoes and coats and sit on the grass and sing to the moon." Both his mom and dad had already told him, more than once, that it was too cold to go out however, (it was 15 degrees), so I had to tell him we would do that another time. We will. He surely knows we will; but it felt like a betrayal on my part. Me, the grandma who loves to be outside after the sun goes to bed. There is nothing wrong with learning to wait for good things; to hope.
For his goodnight song the other night Zane asked me to sing the Goodnight To The Trees song. We sang it together, since he was the one who made it up. I have to believe some of this nature immersion stuff is rooting down into their sensitive souls, my sweet grandkids. I have to believe that because it is so incredibly important to me that they become comfortable with the earth and its creatures, the turning of the seasons, the phases of the moon, stars and planets.
Okay, that was not a Ten On Tuesday, which is what I started out to write. These things happen.
One of the things I noticed in the rush and swirl that was December was this: I did not have time to read any books or to write much of anything on the blog either, both things I love to do. We have put on the brakes and slowed to a more manageable speed all around. I have started two new books and, as you can see, have found the time to sit me down in silence with a yellow lead pencil…..well, maybe not a pencil, but close.
Breathe in…wait…and let it out. Repeat. Open your eyes and quiet your mind.