Christmas

The Lost Summer…

The last day of July. Heading directly into the dog days tomorrow–August 1. The EIGHTH month of the year, putting us mere MOMENTS away from the Christmas crazies. (and I was so happy to see Christmas stuff only begin to arrive in the store this last week—No big CHRISTMAS in JULY themed nonsense…)

But tomorrow, we are no longer far away from 2010. We are frightfully close. Halloween and autumn leaves crowd our aisles. Shades of orange and rust are forcing away the fuchsia and yellows of summer.

This year, no garden death to lament. No, that doesn’t mean I was successful in planting, raising and keeping the critters away from my flower bed.

It means I never even bothered. For the past 6 years, gardening in the south had been an exercise in futility.  I enjoyed it every March, every April, and sometimes right into May.

Then, in early to mid-May, summer would arrive. With its crazy 100+ days, dripping humidity, and my horrid soil and southern exposure. All my efforts were for naught. Anything that managed NOT to be stolen under cover of night by the voles would die.

This year I was having foot issues. I was in a boot for a month trying to heal it (Have I?? I think, a bit. Sometimes) And then we took a slightly earlier, slightly longer vacation in late April.

By the time I was home and healthy enough to be crawling around in the dirt, I had emotionally removed myself from the garden because last year, by mid-May I had been waving the white flag of surrender.

A funny thing happened this year. It didn’t get hot! So, all this time, I COULD HAVE been working at it, and I didn’t, and now, its August tomorrow, and FINALLY the heat is here….

And the night, Christmas Eve…

It’s Christmas Eve, and if you’ve a place to be, I hope you are already there….or on the way, through the snow and the weather, willing to fight the traffic, wait in airports, and suffer delays everywhere….

May tomorrow be everything  you wish!

This is one of my favorite Christmas songs….Old City Bar, by Trans-Siberian Orchestra….Take a listen, and hope that everyone finds their special angel this holiday season!

Merry Christmas, EVERYONE!

In last month’s post, I took the time to say thank you. Thank you for being a part of my life, and for making it a more enjoyable place. So for Christmas, what to write?

How about a trip down memory lane? (Complete with Scary photos!)

  • Christmas was different, way back when. (Seriously.) It absolutely DID NOT START IN JULY!
  • There were no such things as TACKY LIGHT TOURS.
  • Wrapping paper and Christmas cards and ornaments went on sale the day AFTER Christmas.
  • Santa lived in the NORTH POLE, not the center court of the mall.
  • Making a Santa list meant lying on the floor perusing the Sears or JC Penney catalog.
  • It was a clever and desirable decorative accent to have bushy metallic garland wrapped around the tree.
  • You were oh so contemporary if you had tiny colored lights on the tree, and even more sophisticated if you used twinkling WHITE lights.
  • At our house, we used the big honking Christmas bulbs. And the tree was not artificial and wired for lights and sound.

 Indeed the thing was barely capable of standing on its own in the stand. It was helped along every year by strategically placed string. Some string was tied to the French door behind it, some was tied to a nail on the opposite wall. The illusion was that of an upright tree in the corner of the living room, next to the (working) fireplace, complete with stockings.

One year, in my determination to prove that Santa didn’t exist, I began to scavenge around the house, looking into every hidey-hole and drawer. I scoured the basement, even climbed into the little room under the stairs on my search. (as if Grandma could have climbed into that hole!) I finally did find the stash. It was on the top shelf in the closet in Grandma’s room. I discovered first, the Tiffany box that had a set of crystal ashtrays that Daddy Gus had received for some event ( I still own those) I discovered whatever must have gift as well, so I was very proud of myself.

And then, Christmas morning, I was let down. I had no anticipation, or excitement about the day, because I KNEW already that Santa-Grandma had come through. I prefer to be surprised, I discovered that day.

One other memory, and a fond one at that. We used to go Christmas Caroling in the neighborhood. Mr and Mrs Nichols, the Cernera family, the Grace family, maybe even the Nordnesses and the Padulas or the Suerats. We would travel from home to home on Ellicott Place and up and down Prospect Avenue. Ringing doorbells, singing our hearts out, loudly and probably off key in the dark of Christmas Eve. We always opted to ring the front door at the Graces. Probably the only day the door was used. Hot chocolate, cider and cookies were provided at a variety of homes. We would gather in the kitchen of Mrs. Beveridge, my kindergarten teacher, and warm up before continuing our rounds.

Christmas does have it’s memories, doesn’t it?

I hope that you and yours make wonderful new ones this Christmas season. May your day be merry and bright. And may next year be as wonderful as you deserve!!!

Love ya,

Trish

Trans-siberian Orchestra  Gorgeous Christmas music, with narration by Ossie Davis, who helps to tell the story of an angel who visits earth one Christmas eve in search of a star to follow.

What,  you didn’t forget the scary photos, did you? Check these out! (look over to the Flicker bar and double click if you are brave!

Christmas