I stepped out into a frosted world… even the tops of the cedars sparkled in the first rays of morning light peeking into the Hollow.
The frozen mud crunched with each footstep. Like a tourist with their first glimpse of the Grand Canyon, I snapped photo after photo of crystal-crusted oak leaves, flowers, blades of grass, juniper berries,bits of dried wood and mud…
I've barely looked at my photos, though… Tom and I are headed to Florida to visit his parents, leaving our capable kids to take care of the house and dogs, and I've had too many stray to-do's I needed to round up before leaving.
I fell into a funk earlier this week, much like the fog that replaced those sparkling frosty mornings. Too much stress, too little sleep, worries over families or friends or finances… who knows what pulled me into that internal fog, but I took my own advice, counted my blessings, prayed, and just marched on ahead, knowing a clear blue sky waited just behind the cloud.
It helped when I read these lines on The Blue Muse…
Whatever the reason, I feel calm and centered and as if I am basking in the glow of something wonderful.
I think I’ll wrap a bit of this glow up in a big old box, tie it with a very old, very pretty ribbon, and send it out to the world.
When it comes your way, I hope you’ll open it, take a big deep breath, and then send it back out with a smile.
Her words were my deep breath; when I exhaled, I could feel the shift back to center inside and the glow of the something wonderful she spoke of. I'm sending it back out, now, with a smile, in case there's someone else who needs that light.
I finally began decorating the house for Christmas Friday, memories spilling out of the boxes with each Santa or snowman I unpacked. In the past few years I've held back, only pulling out a fraction of my decorations, but this year I'm setting out every Christmas beany baby, every spray-painted glitter-sprinkled pine cone "tree", every crocheted Santa kiss and snowflake and angel, every ceramic fundraiser Nativity scene…
So now my house is splashed in Christmas kitsch and I love it. It wraps around me like a worn warm quilt I once thought of tossing out but now can't bear to part with.
I sit here now in a quiet house, after a day at work and then two Christmas parties… gatherings with dear friends I don't see often enough… trying to finish this post I started days ago. Beds are filled with people near to my heart, worn out from the week or maybe from dancing, but I'm still wide awake, savoring the sweetness…
Sunday: receiving a blessing from your congregation; dancing a waltz, the Cotton-Eyed Joe, the Schottisch and the Twist, all in one night; Rudy's barbecue
Monday: gratitude on your puppies' faces for letting them sleep inside on a cold, wet night
Tuesday: homemade pizza; a Christmas party at a winery
Wednesday: frosty mornings; finally getting caught up on a week's worth of emails
Thursday: the first touch of the sun on autumn leaves; hamburgers grilled by your son; a surprise ornament from a friend waiting for you in the mailbox; visiting with friends in the church parking lot
Friday: morning fog gathered in a hollow; your neighbor's dog, recovering from being hit by a truck, actually running again… or at least trying to; keeping promises; your son helping you unpack Christmas and drape it around the house
Saturday: a walk with your puppies and sweetie before heading off to work; a customer taking the time to sing your praises to your supervisor; celebrating the season by gathering with friends and dancing in an airplane hangar; hugging 2/3 of your kids
Belated Sweet: your sister giving you the teapot your grandmother used almost every day for 60 years or so
Wishing you a week full of sweet! moments!
Long Hollow 
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