December

 

Autumn blessed us with unusually warm weather in spite of days when clouds or rain prevailed. Online weather forecasts predicted frost on several nights but we were left untouched until 29th November. 

I had reluctantly cleared the planters away from the front steps on the 17th, repotting geraniums that I decided to house for another winter, lugging large pots, still soil filled, to store in the greenhouse. 

Nasturtiums that wilted during late summer heat revived and bloomed profusely and untidily through September, October and well into November. 

I brought in the smallest pot of them and landed it on the folding table set up in the west porch room where my rosemarys should survive all but the coldest winter nights. The nasturtiums are straggling but I've allowed seeds to ripen on the off chance that before winter is over they might germinate and give me a head start on new plants.

Winter settled in with the turning of the calendar page to December; a week of freezing temperatures, some light snow, encroaching darkness, most days too cold to encourage walking the usual loops around the meadow. 

Christmas Eve has caught me almost unaware. I look back over the notes scribbled in the spaces of the calendar on my desk and find the usual quotidian tasks of laundry, meal prep and cleaning interspersed with reading and sewing, a few trips to the South Fork shops for supplies. 

We've noticed the early evening darkness that leads to the Winter Solstice, yawning, looking at the clock to find it is far too early for bedtime. Most evenings I get a renewed burst of energy, go downstairs to sew. 

There have been the usual church duties, music to prepare, taking my turn at the piano or to lead a lesson study.

I've taken only a few photos, few of the words which parade through my head have found their release onto screen or paper. 

Jim watches TV late in the evening, I read online before reading in bed until after midnight.

Robert-cat before daylight begins urging me to get up and let him out into the still chilly and dark mornings. 

Sunrises and sunsets are glowingly brilliant even on days which segue into overcast mode. 

I attended a fine Christmas concert in a church in town--the choir included a number of people that I know. Driving home in the early dusk [having been admonished by daughter G. to be home before dark] I noted a flock of geese, their winged shapes moving darkly across the grey sky. 

I've caught the flashing red of cardinals in the trees that edge the north ravine; Thimble-kitten alerts me when sparrows land in the bare branches of the magnolias outside the living room windows. I've not yet seen the juncos that usually bob about the dooryard in winter. 

It has been a quiet month; the usual underlying concerns and worries that plague any family, the dismay over events in the news about which we can do so little. The so-called 'little things' which spark delight are to be cherished.

A tragedy last Saturday afternoon has left the county saddened and outraged. A 7 year old girl died when a drunk driver overtook the car in which she was riding with both her grandmothers. The man was noted driving his pickup truck at an excessive rate of speed, rammed the car which over-turned in the ditch, killing the child, injuring her younger brother and the two women.

The intoxicated man was found to have numerous DUI offenses on record. 

How does one begin to forgive or comprehend such utter disregard for life?

A rhetorical question. 

We have been presented with early Christmas gifts, although we have protested that Christmas with no small children to delight is more about family gatherings and enjoying festive meals . Many of the family birthdays are in December and January and we tend to honor those days with special gifts and outings.

Today was overcast and the temperature has held at a degree or two above 40 F. A few spatters of cold rain kept me company on my walk this morning, not enough to be labeled as showers.

We enjoyed Belgian waffles at nearly noon, served with blueberry sauce, maple syrup and turkey bacon. 

Thus another Christmas Eve is slowly and quietly passing into history.

My haphazard but heart-felt prayers for all of you who read are for quiet joys, good health, peace of mind, no matter what the New Year holds.

'Gleam' nasturtiums brought inside before the late November frost.

Sunrise.

Grandson D. requested a quilt.  I wanted a 'big block' pattern and found a variation of 'Turning Twenty' on pinterest. The largest unit in each block was designated as an 8 inch square of fabric. I had thirty 8 inch Sawtooth Star blocks on hand which made a far more interesting and unique quilt. The blocks are meant to be 'turned' and as I wanted the 'stars' to be offset--and had used several directional fabrics, I had created for  myself considerable rearranging and some picking out of misplaced blocks--before I was satisfied with the layout. The quilt top is at the workshop of the woman who does what I call a neat 'everyday' quilting. In the meantime, D. suggested that his girlfriend K. yearned for a quilt of her own, so that one is in the works, becoming a bit more time-consuming than I anticipated. 

Laundered sheets were pegged on the back porch lines during Sunday's burst of sunshine.

I put my Christmas Geese quilt on my bed, then immediately covered most of it with throws for the cats!

Rosie is appreciative of a nap on the fleecy tartan throw--and a few moments of peace before Thimble kitten lands on the bed to torment her.