The tree has been cut, shortened to fit the house, and is likely to get decorated over the weekend. Tomorrow the Better Half will bake her famous orange Christmas cookies and I will head for the big city to do a little shopping. Once again I will enter a book store sans the company of a responsible adult, so who knows what may happen.
If the sourdough rises overnight, tomorrow afternoon will be baking time for me (the kitchen isn’t big enough for two bakers at a time) since, in our house, cookies usually take precedence over bread. A few years back, before we became empty nesters, Christmas cookie baking was a bigger deal. One year, or maybe two, I even got involved in the creation of a gingerbread village. All of this is leading to the observation that some of the best Christmas presents ever are happy memories from Christmases past with family and close friends, both four and two legged. Think about that the next time a MAGA relative sounds off at a family gathering. Remember that the Magi brought frankincense, myrrh and gold and that silence is golden.
 |
| Santa’s gingerbread village
Photo by J. Harrington
|
Among the ornaments going onto the tree this year are three new (to us) owls, antique french ornaments. I have long had a thing about owls and the Better Half often humors me with owl ornaments of various kinds. I just noticed several other owl ornaments on the tree and am beginning to contemplate, for next year if the fates allow, a separate, smallish tree with all, but only, owl ornaments. Thinking about that, maybe Mother Nature will provide a Christmas present with an actual owl, probably barred, sitting in one of our trees where I can see it. It’s been quite some time since any owls have been seen around the yard, at least by me.
This posting was interrupted by a case of tipping (over) Christmas tree. I went off to get a bigger stand which seems to be helping. Stay tuned. All of which is causing me Christmas flashbacks to my father wrestling some Christmas trees into submission in the bay windows of the dining room in our Dorchester triple-decker. Some things may go into remission, but they never really change.
Christmas Cookies
By
C. F. Kelly
The mixer in the kitchen purrs;
it twists and tosses as it stirs
the cookie batter Mom will bake
and then let me help decorate.
The silver cutters wait in lines
to shape their own unique designs
when rolling pin has done its job
and flattened out the doughy blob.
She wipes her brow, adjusts her sleeves,
and starts to cut out holly leaves,
then picks the joyful rocking horse
and stars and bells and birds, of course.
The trees and Santas wait their turn,
while angels, next to snow men, yearn
to don their robes and join the crowd?
I’m sure they want to sing out loud.
The powdered sugar frosting spreads
with ease and forms the sticky beds
on which the colored sprinkles rest,
where red-hot buttons look their best.
And I would like to make it clear
that these creations disappear
because in spite of looking neat,
they’re really baked for us to eat.
********************************************
Thanks for visiting. Come again when you can.
Please be kind to each other while you can.
No comments:
Post a Comment