It’s neither silent nor night, but all is calm and all is bright, at least for the moment. The sun is actually shining in a blue sky. Christmas shopping is basically done. Packages to be mailed have been sent off. The Better Half and I just put several bags of presents under the tree of the Daughter Person, Son-In-Law and Granddaughter. We’ll spend much of Christmas at their home together with our Son, who’ll be coming up from “The Cities” to visit and celebrate his own birthday.
On the way back to our home today, we noticed a small flock of swans feeding in a harvested corn field. The battery on my better camera, the one that lives in the Jeep, had died, so the photo below is the best I could do with my smartphone. I’m pretty sure these are part of the flocks that overwinter on the St. Croix River. Being reminded of how wonderful is the area where we live could be a daily present if we paid more attention every day. That sounds like the beginning of a (repeat) New Year Resolution. Time to revisit Samuel Beckett’s famous quotation “Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try again. Fail again. Fail better.”
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| swans in a snowy field
Photo by J. Harrington
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I’m hoping there’ll be a book or two under the tree for me and that the end of this year and the beginning of next will remain calm and bright enough to permit me to just relax and enjoy reading them: no blizzards to dig out from, no polar vortex to cope with, no winter tornadoes in the North Country, no COVID infections in the family, etc. In fact, it would be great if next year we could even outdo Mr. Beckett and not fail better but actually succeed in making life better for most of US and restoring some earth systems on which we all depend. The way things seem today, that would rate right up there with the miracle birth we celebrate in a week.
Breezes blowin’ middlin’ brisk,
Snow-flakes thro’ the air a-whisk,
Fallin’ kind o’ soft an’ light,
Not enough to make things white,
But jest sorter siftin’ down
So ’s to cover up the brown
Of the dark world’s rugged ways
’N’ make things look like holidays.
Not smoothed over, but jest specked,
Sorter strainin’ fur effect,
An’ not quite a-gittin’ through
What it started in to do.
Mercy sakes! it does seem queer
Christmas day is ’most nigh here.
Somehow it don’t seem to me
Christmas like it used to be,—
Christmas with its ice an’ snow,
Christmas of the long ago.
You could feel its stir an’ hum
Weeks an’ weeks before it come;
Somethin’ in the atmosphere
Told you when the day was near,
Did n’t need no almanacs;
That was one o’ Nature’s fac’s.
Every cottage decked out gay—
Cedar wreaths an’ holly spray—
An’ the stores, how they were drest,
Tinsel tell you could n’t rest;
Every winder fixed up pat,
Candy canes, an’ things like that;
Noah’s arks, an’ guns, an’ dolls,
An’ all kinds o’ fol-de-rols.
Then with frosty bells a-chime,
Slidin’ down the hills o’ time,
Right amidst the fun an’ din
Christmas come a-bustlin’ in,
Raised his cheery voice to call
Out a welcome to us all;
Hale and hearty, strong an’ bluff,
That was Christmas, sure enough.
Snow knee-deep an’ coastin’ fine,
Frozen mill-ponds all ashine,
Seemin’ jest to lay in wait,
Beggin’ you to come an’ skate.
An’ you’d git your gal an’ go
Stumpin’ cheerily thro’ the snow,
Feelin’ pleased an’ skeert an’ warm
’Cause she had a-holt yore arm.
Why, when Christmas come in, we
Spent the whole glad day in glee,
Havin’ fun an’ feastin’ high
An’ some courtin’ on the sly.
Burstin’ in some neighbor’s door
An’ then suddenly, before
He could give his voice a lift,
Yellin’ at him, “Christmas gift.”
Now sich things are never heard,
“Merry Christmas” is the word.
But it’s only change o’ name,
An’ means givin’ jest the same.
There’s too many new-styled ways
Now about the holidays.
I’d jest like once more to see
Christmas like it used to be!
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Please be kind to each other while you can.
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