Merry Christmas, One and All

It was a lovely morning and the sun beckoned me to walk out back, among the pine trees. Not the most beautiful trees in the world, like telephone poles with a few wisps of green, way at their tops. The payoff is underfoot. I strolled along the soft piney pathways carved out by YS and his friend , John Deere. The air was a warm hug around me, the little breeze delicious. And once again I thought, "there's no place like home."

I've always hankered for a Norman Rockwell sort of life. You know the one, with the old homestead, where all the children grew up, and to which they flock back at the holidays, offspring in tow, to gather round the groaning table....And hark! I hear the OC groaning too, in exasperation. Option #1 : Stop lurking! Option # 2 :Bear with me while I indulge my little fantasy!........The NR grandparents are portly [we're not], and jolly [hmmm]. They've got their **** figured out, and don't visit their angst on the younger generations. They love all their children and grandchildren, regardless of long hair or piercings, or strong opinions or outlandish choices in clothing..... The grandchildren run and jump and laugh, and swing on the same swing, under the same old oak tree that Mama and Papa swung on in their day.....ok, ok, even I'm laughing now.......

At the back corner I walked in under the graceful, whispering shade of the Budda's Belly, pride and joy of the OC and YS both. They brought it home five years ago in the back of the car, a mere sapling, and now it reaches thirty feet into the sky. Up front, near the road, another variety of bamboo flourishes, lower-growing and spreading, beloved by quail and other shy creatures. Along the side of the house I come to YS's pepper patch. The boy has a green thumb--from farmers on both sides---Ukrainian and Irish both, perhaps? The plants are past their prime now, and probably need to be pulled up, but skinny peppers, like miniature red and orange lights, still cling to their tired stalks. A few yellow blooms still swagger, nearby, on the bedraggled marigold plants.

The azaleas are blooming by the front door, blazing red, just in time for Christmas, and behind them, bunches of red berries hang on the tall nandina. But best of all is the maple, between the front porch and the road, half of its beautiful foliage already deep red.

"He that planteth a tree

is the servant of God;

He provideth a kindness

for many generations,

and faces that

he hath not seen

Shall bless him."

My boys, on this score alone, have secured their places in heaven. Over on the opposite side from the pepper patch, in a shady little grove, a camelia is blooming---beautiful creamy white blossoms---what good, after all, is red without a little Christmas white to set it off?

So it's not a NR homestead, and it's not the Lake Isle of Innisfree, to which, in lonely moments , my heart often flies. Nor is it exactly a small cabin "of clay and wattles made". We don't have "nine bean rows " here, nor " a hive for the honeybee". But peace does "come dropping slow", and I realise maybe I've come to love this latest "home".

Holidays make of me a worse emotional wreck than usual. I miss the children my children used to be. It all went by in such a blur, too fast, before I had a chance to savour each one of them.....and then they were gone.

My eyes, like the rims of overflowing buckets, carefully carried over uneven terrain, can spill over at any moment....sending the menfolk running for cover. Best to talk to her only of the weather, or politics, or bills to be paid, or the aged and infirm drivers out there on the roads, endangering the rest of us........just don't get into any family drama.....please.

I need to get comfortable in this new Phase.....After all, isn't this what I dreamed about all those frazzled, child-raising years? To not be needed so much and so constantly; to not have to have all the answers; to, once in a while, have a moment to daydream, all by myself, without the chorus of " mommy, mommy, mommy!"

"you may give them your love but not

your thoughts,

for they have their own thoughts."

and

"their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow

which you cannot visit,

not even in your dreams."

And so "I will arise and go now", to the kitchen, to count my blessings, and banish that persistent Grinch to his dark corner, and set to baking....

I wish for peace in the world at Christmas; peace in my family and in yours; peace for my children and their families; for my OC and YS, who I'll be so glad to have home; peace for my scattered friends everywhere, and for all my lovely new blogger friends. A merry and peaceful Christmas to one and all!

The Minutiae of Existence...

"So what's new today?"the OB cheerfully asks on the phone each night from his new nest in the north. And, "Vat you do today M?" on the nightly visit to the elders. They really don't want to know. Mostly I've been moping and wandering and thinking about what I should be doing, but this persistent cloud of inertia has settled over me.......Enter the Flylady via "notinyourear"! I can do anything for 15 minutes.....Where to start? Two areas where the cat has barfed [he's feeling mopey too]. And of course they're not on the tile, oh no! For barfing purposes the softer, lighter, more absorbent surface is preferred. To give me some credit, I had cleaned up what was removable, blotted thoroughly and sprayed. But then it sat, and sat....

So, Flylady-inspired, I attacked the first spot. Armed with an old toothbrush and a cup of warm water, the better to coax the stain out. Dip and scrub, dip and scrub. I could hardly see the stain, which was good. But then, you guessed it, I knocked the cup over and sent a puddle of water sinking rapidly into the carpet. The first word to fly from my mouth was not a pretty one. Long ago I had a very ladylike and demure vocabulary. And then I got married. Military men are not known for mincing words. And then I had children, including three of the male variety. You can guess the rest. My vocabulary is now, on occasion, quite salty. And I must say, in certain circumstances, there is nothing so satisfying as a carefully chosen, vehemently enunciated cuss word.

While I was muttering and mopping, Master C wandered curiously by. " Whatcha doin' ma?" Sniffing the cup, he discerned that there was still a small amount of water in the bottom. So he inserted a delicate white paw to test the waters and finding them good, stuck his head in for a drink because, as everyone knows, water always tastes better when it's not in your dish....

Now, where was I? Well, you can see what I mean about wandering and moping and straying off task...

Note to the picky: I did not allow myself the luxury of writing this [playing] until I had vacuumed for several 15 minute segments---three cheers for the flylady! But then I permitted myself a bonus---I came and wrote it at the library---where there are people and books......ahhhhh.