On the Ninth Day of Christmas

(Sing it, friends!)

My cousin brought to me

24
porcelain
birds

which famously belonged
to my grandmother
and I haven't seen them

in
48
years

Wow, what a flock!
Sitting on the table
Wondering where they are
and what is going to happen next.

Detective Circumstantial

As is our New Year tradition, we saw the first movie of the day this morning. Knives Out came highly recommended and it was an enjoyable, twisty, little mannered murder mystery in the style of Agatha Christie and Clue. We didn't leave the detecting behind in the theater, either.

Later in the day, as we were walking around the Tidal Basin, I came upon a huge broken piece of heavy cast iron. It appeared to be the base of a column, and scanning the area, I saw that the bottom of one of the decorative light poles lining the road was shattered. It was a good thirty feet from us, and so the impact that tossed the base, which itself must have weighed 100 pounds, must have been very great.

"Wow!" I said to Heidi. "Whoever hit that pole must have been going really fast!" I pointed to the road and the grass, shaking my head as we continued on our way. A few steps ahead, we found an empty champagne bottle. "He was probably drinking this!" I deduced. And next there was a perfectly knotted silk necktie, also in the grass "And here's his tie!"

Not surprisingly? We got back to our car before the case was solved.

In the Nick of Time

We ran errands today: Christmas exchanges, New Year's groceries, and a few other more prosaic items. But most importantly, we bought our 2020 wall calendars-- which was a good thing, because the other ones are running out tonight!

Running Late, but Still Expected

The sun was out and the rain was coming down when I left the gym around noon. I did a quick 360 scan for the expected rainbow, but seeing nothing hurried to my car and headed off to the grocery store.

And then:

50 Words for Rain

According to Wikipedia:

The claim that Eskimo languages (specifically, Yupik and Inuit) have an unusually large number of words for "snow", first loosely attributed to the work of anthropologist Franz Boas, has become a cliché often used to support the controversial linguistic-relativity hypothesis that a language's structure (sound, grammar, vocabulary, etc.) shapes its speakers' view of the world. This "strong version" of the hypothesis is largely now discredited...

That may well be, but after an 8 hour, 400 mile road trip with rain, mist, torrential downpour, fog, inland squall, low clouds, drizzle, and road spray the entire way, I think I have an unusually large number of words for wet weather.

But? Believe it or not, they aren't all profanities. Especially since at this time of year it could have all been snow.

Who Was Happier to See Who?

Was it Heidi or Lucy?

Upon being reunited after a three-day separation, Heidi didn't whimper and jump for joy, but that smile was huge.

I'd say it was a draw.

And, fortunately? They will not be parted again for the foreseeable future.

Season of Darkness, Season of Light

A week or so ago I read an op/ed piece in the NYTimes that resonated with me. Entitled Want to Get into the Spirit of Christmas? Face the Darkness, the author Tish Harrison Warren, an Anglican priest, makes an eloquent case for using Advent as it was meant to be: a season to recognize the short days and long nights leading up to Christmas as an opportunity for contemplation and meditation of the darkness in our lives in order to prepare for the light that Christmas promises.

As she says, "Advent holds space for our grief, and it reminds us that all of us, in one way or another, are not only wounded by the evil in the world but are also wielders of it, contributing our own moments of unkindness or impatience or selfishness."

This year, the loss of my mother has sombered the season for me. The holidays have been both warm and sad, and the notion of Advent holding a space for my grief rings true. But, as Warren also points out, tradition provides twelve days of celebration following Christmas. This awareness also pleases me and fills the emptiness that torn wrapping paper, clearance sales, and early Valentines Day displays may hollow out.

And this morning when my brother and his family were heading back home, my nephew Treat said, "Another Christmas is over," in a sweet sorrow kind of a way.

But when I pointed out that, in some traditions, there were actually 9 more days of celebration left, he quickly adjusted.

"Well, then," he said, "I guess another Christmas has just begun."