Monthly Archives: December 2021

𝕬 π–›π–Žπ–˜π–Žπ–™ 𝖋𝖗𝖔𝖒 𝕾𝖙. π•―π–”π–Œπ–”π–‘π–†π–˜

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β€˜Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;

The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, in hopes that St. Dogolas soon would be there; the animals were nestled all snug in their beds… 

Hey, wait, what are you doing there, Mollie?

You can’t wait there in the kindling box, Mollie. Santa will never come down the chimney with you watching like that. Go to bed. Look, there’s Sylvester. Curl up like him in your bed.

And Sam, you and Zoe need to go to bed as well. Go on back to the bedroom.

Zoe, stop looking out the window. You won’t be able to see Santa there. He’ll come around the back of the house and land on the roof.

“Roof!?”

Yes, Zoe, the roof.

There, that’s better.

And you, too, Mollie.

It’s hard to see you there, Mollie, all curled up next to your mama, but if your mama is OK with you lying there, it’s ok with me. And Santa, too.

Now, everyone settle your brains for a long winter’s nap,

He’s chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf. I’m sure we’ll see him, if I say so myself.

Will he come to our house before we sleep? Let’s be careful and quiet, not making a peep.

Out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
What to my wondering eyes should appear,

A little old furkid, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Dog.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his leash was all tarnished with ashes and soot;
A bundle of Dog Toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a pedler just opening his pack.
His eyesβ€”how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,

… laying his paw aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle,
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,

β€œ … and to all a good night!”

We here on top of the mountain with everyone a holiday filled with happiness, rainbows, sun dogs, pink clouds, and good cheer.

Ghosts of Christmas past

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Once upon a time, long, long ago, the four of us gathered for a Christmas self-portrait.

That’s me on the left, with the chubby face, holding some book. My brother was in his hippie phase. I think this photo was taken some time around 1970, possibly a little earlier. I was clean shaven, a condition that has been pretty rare in the last 50 years. I would have been around 20. Henry would have been around 23. My father would have been around 53, and my mother around 47.

I found another Christmas photo from a little earlier.

This is Henry. Since I am not in the photo, I assume I had either not made my debut, or was too young to participate in the present opening. Since I was born in 1950, that makes this photo around 70 years old.

I was curious about the Radio Flyer, so I looked it up. You can still buy that very model today for $124.99.

That would have been $10 or $11 in 1950. Based on my mother’s budget from those days, that would have been a substantial expense for them. And that was not the only present under the tree.

It’s too late to thank them now.

Some sunrises

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We usually don’t get up early enough to see the actual sunrise, but sometimes I’ll look up while still lying in bed and see red or yellow light on the bedroom curtains. Then I get up and see what’s going on. These are the sunrises I managed to catch.

If it were up to me, I wouldn’t have curtains on the bedroom windows, at least no on the ones facing East. The hill falls away from the house on that side, and no one could possibly see into our bedroom.

But it’s not up to me. Leah insists on curtains. So we have curtains. And those curtains sometimes hide interesting things.