The Holly Fairy, Cicely Mary Barker
O, I am green in Winter-time,
When other trees are brown;
Of all the trees (So saith the rhyme)
The holly bears the crown.
Yesterday was somewhat of a hard and emotional day. I think for both my sister and I, alhough for different reasons. The putting up of the Christmas Tree. Cindy and Dan went out early and picked up a beautiful green tree and Dan put it up.
Dan, Dan is the holiday man. He likes to grasp all of the holidays by both horns and wrangle them into life, and he does it with lots of love and feeling. I am realising he is no halfway kind of a guy. He puts his all into everything.
It literally took him all day to decorate it, and he did it all himself. Not that we were not invited to participate, but I don't think either Cindy nor I were feeling it really. We went out grocery shopping and when we got back, he had the lights on and was putting on the decorations. I have never seen so many boxes of decorations. Each one of them was lovingly and meticulously planted on the tree.
This was only partway through the process. He did a really wonderful job on it. The whole house really. Every where I look, I am surprised by another little delight that I had not noticed before.
Like this, seen dangling in the doorway between the kitchen and dining room . . . .
A Santa dangling here . . . .
A Santa dangling there . . .
Angels watching over us . . .
Throughout the tree are scattered handmade ornaments, created by my sister and I through the years . . .
I can no longer remember who made what. Tangible memories of Christmas Crafts created by us both and then times spent at the Christmas craft markets together. Wonderful memories those . . .
We used to have to much fun at those . . . it wasn't (for me anyways) about how much we sold, but more about the time we got to spend with each other . . .
Sorry the photos are so poor. I do remember making these little gingerbread angels with their paper bag wings and twine halos . . .
This is really serious business this . . . I can't believe he took all day, but he did and what a fabulous job. That tree is a masterpiece of beauty. I know my photos don't do it true justice . . .
Queen Pumpkin (mom's cat) sitting on her invisible throne surveying her domain this morning . . .
16 year old Gary
Christmas schwistmas, where are my treats! Bah humbug!
Jazzy 12 weeks or so
Are you sure I can't assist you in some way? The sound of your tapping keys are mighty seductive I have to say . . . please? Let me help!
All aboard the Christmas Train. Your driver today will be the Pink Panther, assisted by a multitude of snowmen and polar bears . . . so cute.
All aboard!! Ticket's please. No
crowding towards the rear of the car. Okay
maybe a little bit of crowding towards the rear of the car.
The adventure has begun.
Christmas 2020.
No grinches allowed . . .
And even mom is included . . . I love that she is here . . . that Santa on the far right. My Uncle Harold carved out of wood and Cindy painted. I had one too. Left behind. Oh well.
This year is a real mixed bag of emotions. The Corona Virus. So many deaths in the family, four to be exact, none of them Corona related. The destruction of 20 years of my life in one fell swoop. We may not feel an awful lot like celebrating . . .
My parent's wedding picture. All those years ago. They would have been married 66 years in October. They are both so young here. I will need to get a better photo of it at another time.
Yes, there is sadness this year. Things may not be the same as we expected them to be. The year has been full of many sad and unexpected surprises, but there has been some real blessings as well. The finding of a sweet kitten . . . the reuniting of family. Plenty of love. Life will go on. There will be joy.
A thought to carry with you . . .
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˚ ˛ •˛•˚ */______/~＼。˚ ˚ ˛
˚ ˛ •˛• ˚ ｜ 田田 ｜門 ★
*.˛.°Faith is the antidote for fear.
•。★★ 。* 。
° 。 ° ˛˚˛ * _Π_____*。*˚
˚ ˛ •˛•˚ */______/~＼。˚ ˚ ˛
˚ ˛ •˛• ˚ ｜ 田田 ｜門 ★
*.˛.°Faith is the antidote for fear.
~President Russell M Nelson
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Have a blessed Sunday. Be happy. Be safe. Don't forget . . .