It's Christmas, at my house! How I love Decembers short days. Mornings and evenings are for the candles glow. I sit in the warm silence and feel sated with happiness.
All my little angels are up and singing. In the stillness of December, I can hear them, faint and far away.
Birds nest, for luck, and oriole feathers and egg shells.
A chickadee on my window.
Felted blue mittens.
All the Christmas books.
Bells against the lace.
Food and flowers.
Cedar and red berries.
Boots and socks, and plaid blankets.
The desire of the heart.
The Holly and the Ivy.
A tea party.
New fallen snow.
The sun, setting in the west.
When the sky is heavy and grey, and the big, wet snowflakes kiss my face. When suddenly the sun tries to part the clouds, but all I see is a golden glow for a brief moment. When the wind skirls in the night time, and I am warm under the quilt. When the fire crackles in the morning. When the children come in with rosy cheeks and wet mittens. When the smell of cinnamon and vanilla and pine and cedar are in the air. When friends come, and the coffee and conversation flow. When we have secret surprises waiting for some one. When all the Decembers, all the Christmases past, shine dreamily before me, settle in around me, leave me mellow and thankful. Thankful for the birth of a Saviour. He came here for me. In a manger, in Bethlehem. No greater gift was or will, ever be given.
It's Christmas,, at my house!
