Christmas Eve has been another day of misty, grey-sky weather.
The sliding door was partly open as we were creating heat and the odor of frying in the kitchen.
I caught the sound of sandhill cranes flying over, wiped my hands on my apron and dashed outside with the camera.
I had little time to focus and was aiming into such light as there was as the cranes flew south down the valley, headed for their winter grounds--quite likely part of the throng which migrates to the banks of the North Platte River in Nebraska.
The voices of the cranes are harsh and croaking--we heard them often in Wyoming and saw their tall gawky forms stalking through the grass which bordered streams or rivers.
As the calling of the cranes faded, I returned to the kitchen.
Since daughter G. the queen of bakers has been making cookies for days,
we decided to produce a double batch of donuts to be shared around as a treat with morning
coffee or tea.
With the donuts done and the kitchen cleaned I felt the need to be outside in the fresh misty air.
I put on a clean shirt, shook my hair loose from its braid, tucked the camera in my pocket.
Crossing the yard I noticed a gathering of crows in the field where the wheat sown as a cover crop is greening. There are still corncobs lying on the ground providing food for birds and squirrels.
It is not possible to go anywhere in the dooryard or in the fields without an entourage of cats.
Nellie has climbed into the old apple tree--he is not as nimble as Bobby and clambered about rather unsteadily until deciding to slither down the trunk and plop to the ground.
The crows launched themselves skyward as I approached the field with my train of cats.
Bobby and Nellie romped at the foot of the ancient pear tree.
Little Edward scrambled a few feet up the pear tree before realizing that perhaps he didn't care to continue.
Back indoors as the cloudy day dimmed into an early twilight.
A mug of green tea enjoyed by the fire and a few chapters of a favorite old book.
A light supper--in anticipation of tomorrow's feast.
I missed Public Radio's broadcast of the Lessons and Carols from Kings' College, but found the entire presentation from 2010 on YouTube.
I watched it at my desk with my elderly Eggnog cat in my lap.
The architecture of English churches impresses me fully as much as the ability of the choirs.
Both are something I wish I might have experienced in person.
The cats are piled on the guest room bed behind me.
J. has retired and it behooves me to do the same.
I wish you the blessings of the Christmas season--however you keep it.