Peevish Pen

Ruminations on reading, writing, rural living, retirement, aging—and sometimes cats. And maybe a border collie or other critters.

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Location: Rural Virginia, United States

I'm an elderly retired teacher who writes. Among my books are Ferradiddledumday (Appalachian version of the Rumpelstiltskin story), Stuck (middle grade paranormal novel), Patches on the Same Quilt (novel set in Franklin County, VA), Them That Go (an Appalachian novel), and several Kindle ebooks.

Sunday, December 23, 2007

I’m Dreaming of a Green Christmas

Today, one of my Christmas wishes came true: it rained. In fact, it rained until late in the afternoon—sometimes misty, sometimes heavy. I don’t know if today’s precipitation will be enough to make up for the lack of rain during 2007, but every little drop helps. If the rain helps the fields to green up and the water level in the well to rise, it’s a good thing.

A couple of days ago, I figured we’d get rain. I “felt it in my bones.” (Now I understand my grandma’s expression!) I suppose one of the benefits of getting old and achy is the ability to predict inclement weather.

Speaking of green, my “Christmas tree” is a ficus. When a friend gave it to me a couple of years ago, the ficus had maybe a dozen leaves and wasn’t expected to live. He thought I could recycle the pot the tree was planted in. Turns out I could, but I thought I might also be able to resurrect the tree. I repotted it and gave it plenty of water. In a few months, it was like a new tree—leaves all over.

Many ornaments on the ficus were gifts from friends. My favorite, of course, is the singing horse that neighs out “We Three Kings of Orient Are.” (Note to Polly and Robyn, who gave me the horse: You can now stop wondering if I’m going to post a picture of it this year.) The pear that Peggy gave me yesterday sets it off nicely (a horsie in a pear tree?). Another ornament—from Tina—looks just like Melody.


My other decorating is even more minimalist: a Christmas mat in the front hall, some red candles in the dining room, a bit of greenery on the mantle, and a patchwork wreath on the front door. My mother made the wreath from a kit years about twenty years ago—maybe longer. I can’t remember when I didn’t have it; it hung on the door of our Roanoke house for numerous Christmases before we moved here.

I took this picture two years ago. Maggie's head barely fits through the wreath now.

The older I get, the more I scale down. I no longer feel a need to decorate to bolster my Christmas spirits. I’d rather have a simple, peaceful day with the sound of rain on the roof.

Rain doesn’t dampen my spirits at all.

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1 Comments:

Blogger Debi said...

I love Christmas but I find myself decorating less also. There are other important things to do. Like make cookies!

3:47 PM  

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