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It's only the eleventh day of Christmas, but the tree must come down tonight as the Boy Scouts run their pick-up service in the morning. I am always a little sad at taking down the tree. Removing the decorations after having it in my house for three weeks—and then putting it outside in the cold—makes me almost as sorrowful as when the last stem of my jade plant finally collapsed from want of sunlight, or when I discovered that Maia, in her kittenhood, had knocked my African violet to the floor and smashed it.
Yes, even though I'm now an adult and responsible for cleaning up all the dropping needles.
Maybe heaven will be forested with the souls of Christmas trees. (Not an orthodox thought, I suppose, but a consoling one.) Meanwhile, I have the lights on and will enjoy them to the last minute and post all sorts of Christmassy pictures here while I can.
The angel atop the tree:
Mom made me these beautiful ornaments as a Christmas gift; they represent one of my stories. A hint of things to come:
Now, for a few of my old favorites, in the scrambled order in which they uploaded:
|one of the fish my sister Beth gave me|
|a particularly lovely Holy Family|
|the rafting Santas my boss Paul gave me|
when I worked as a raft guide
|beautiful Slavic Madonna-and-child|
|the pianoforte, of course|
|It's pretty, too.|
|The little stocking has moved, as Maia used it|
to try and pull the tree over last night
One last time for the season: Merry Christmas! And happy Epiphany!
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Music of the week: This is not Christmas music, but even I am a little tired of Christmas music. I am not, however, tired of the King of Instruments, which we reliably get in church on Christmas and Easter (and almost never in between, to the everlasting shame of modernity.) This symphony played on Seattle classical station King FM the other day and is made of all things wonderful.
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And now, to clean house and plan dinner. I'm not sure what to cook, but a loaf of bread will likely be involved. Lou got me a breadmaker for Christmas. The thing is such a miracle that I don't begrudge it a centimeter of its counter space. I can hardly experiment fast enough.