Christmas cheer

And here we are: it's Christmas again.

Warm Christmas greetings.

A personal note: I cross-stitched this cedar waxwing (from a kit) almost 50 years ago, while I convalesced from an illness at a difficult time. The little bird has always represented, to me, healing and hope for better times. In this spirit, I offer it at the end of this difficult year of 2021.

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Y estamos otra vez en la Navidad.

Deseándoles tranquilidad y gozo en esta temporada.

Una nota personal: hice este ampelis en punto de cruz (de un kit) hace casi 50 años, mientras convalescía después de una enfermedad y en una época de la vida difícil. El pajarito siempre ha representado para mi, recuperación y esperanza de tiempos mejores. En este espíritu lo ofrezco al final de este año 2021, tan desalientador.

Hemmed in

The good thing about bad times, I used to tell my kids (and myself) is that once they're over, we're stronger, more confident. We know we can handle whatever comes; look what we just did!

So this year. This Christmas season. This winter. It's rough, I know. But we'll pull through.

And in the doing, we'll have discovered new stratagems, made new memories.

And some of those memories will be good ones, warm, comforting memories, memories that make us laugh, that bring gentle tears. "Remember the Christmas decorations we made for the tree at the nurses' station in the hospital?" "Remember that year we ate Christmas dinner in MacDonald's because we were broke? And came home to find a box of goodies on the porch?" "Remember when the stove went on the blink and Dad fried the turkey piece by piece in an electric skillet on the porch?" "Remember when it snowed so hard I ended up eating a fried sausage at home alone with the cat?"

We will make new, very personal, adjustments to our traditions, to be passed on year to year.

What new thing will you do this year?

Hemmed in.

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Lo bueno de los tiempos malos, les solía decir a mis hijos (y a mi misma), es que cuando han pasado, salimos con más confianza, más fuerzas. Sabemos que aguantaremos cualquier cosa que pasa: ¡Mira lo que acabamos de hacer!

Y aquí estamos. Esta Navidad. Este año terrible. Este invierno triste. Es difícil. Pero terminará. Y saldremos adelante.

Y al hacerlo, habremos descubierto nuevos recursos, habremos formado nuevos recuerdos.

Y algunos de esos recuerdos serán buenos; recuerdos de consuelo, recuerdos que nos hacen reir, recuerdos que nos hacen verter lágrimas felices. "¿Te acuerdas de las decoraciones que hicimos para el árbol de las enfermeras en el hospital?" "¿Te acuerdas de la vez que cenamos en Nochebuena en MacDonald's porque no teníamos dinero para más? ¿Y que llegamos a casa y encontramos una caja de comidas Navideñas en la puerta?" "¿Te acuerdas de la vez que se descompuso la estufa y Papá cocinó todo el guajolote, en piezas, en un sartén eléctrico afuera en el balcón?" "¿Te acuerdas de la vez que cayó tanta nieve que me quedé en casa, comiendo una salchicha frita con el gato?"

Haremos ajustes muy personales a nuestras tradiciones este año. Tradiciones que llevaremos después hacia adelante, año tras año.

¿Qué cosa nueva harás tú esta temporada navideña?

Foto: un honguito en "encierro".

Christmas orchid

When I moved to Campbell River, three years ago, I bought a baby orchid; three stalks, a handful of leaves, a few inches tall. Now it's a foot and a half tall (45 cm.), has air roots and leaves sticking out in all directions. I've repotted it once.

And now, it has bloomed. In time for Christmas!

Better than a Christmas tree.

(I'm back. I got myself in over my head in things to do, but I've recovered my sanity now. I think.)

And a sparrow in a plum tree

On the first day of Christmas, Ma Nature gave to me ... softly falling snow, four happy juncos, three refilled feeders, two chickadee-dees, and a sparrow in the plum tree.

"Yum! Suet!"

One of the juncos waiting his turn.

That sparrow again.

Merry C and sad tree.

Christmas day turned out sunny and warm (although the puddles were covered with thick ice, and the side hill roads were treacherous); all the beaches, the sea walk, and the beach-side coffee shop, were swarming with people and their dogs, out for a pre-Christmas dinner appetite-raising exercise, maybe.

I drove south to Saratoga Beach, where I found this message in the sand.

Merry C, with long blue shadow fringe. I couldn't get high enough to capture the rest in one photo.

On the way back, I stopped to look at an eagle on a little tree.

Poor tree! It's almost a Charlie Brown Christmas tree. Scrawny, bare. lopsided. And then this miserable, heavy eagle stands on the tip and bends it right over.

And there's his mate, half hidden, stressing out a side branch.

I took these photos through the windshield, then got out of the car to see if I could get around the far side to see the bottom eagle, just barely above my head height. I took one step, and they both flew away.

But at least the tree got some relief.

Dreaming of a (Pale) Blue Christmas

Christmas Day, 2014, on the banks of the Nicomekl River, at Blackie Spit.

Looking north, at near high tide.

Palest blues, reflecting their light on the crow's belly.

Floats marking off the dog-free zone. All of it dog free, now at high tide.

Gull

'nother gull, matching the greys of the clouds.

Tree lace

And the sun was warm, the air cool and fresh, the gulls peaceful. The perfect afternoon, between bouts of Christmas pandemonium. Hope your day was as happy!

A Skywatch post.

I aten't dead

I'm back from Christmas in Victoria, sleepy and happy, and ready to get on with life. Starting tomorrow.

I brought home a bug. Of the unwanted sort; a cold and a sore throat bug. Laurie brought me a remedy, a tea we bought ages ago in a Japanese tea shop in Steveston. The label gives it no name, but has a list of the ingredients:

• licorice
• fennel
• cinnamon
• ginger
• marshmallow root
• mullein
• dried lemon juice
• thyme
• black pepper (Really! Peppercorns!)
• cardamom

It seared my throat all the way down. And I think I'm cured. And knocked a bit silly.

Happy, silly, solar-powered flower, with her face on upside-down.

Hope you all had as good a Christmas as I did!

Before the snow turned to slush

Have to be quick around here; it's raining already. But I got a few quick photos first.

Anemone japonica, frozen and dead, and a pot of Sweet William, still green under a snowy blanket.

Maple leaf and cotoneaster

Cushioned seating. Comfy!

Contrasts

And tomorrow, I start partying. And driving on snowy highways. And sleeping in strange beds. I may not be able to post again until after Christmas.

Have a merry, happy, joyful Christmastide, everyone!

Selfie, with elephant

. . . At least, it looks like an angry elephant to me.

Garden decoration, Beach Grove.

One more week 'till Christmas. Too much to do, in too short a time. I'm glad someone else had time to decorate their yard.

The trouble with books of short stories ...

. . . is that at the end of each, you turn the page and there's another tantalizing title. And it's a short piece, so you may as well read it, too.

A granddaughter dropped in this afternoon with a Christmas present; Terry Pratchett's latest book, A Blink of the Screen. It's a collection of his short fiction, starting with a story written (and published) when he was 13, and continuing to the present time.

The topics range from sci-fi (virtual reality and time travel) to evolving chickens, to the national anthem of the city of Ankh-Morpork, and include another Granny Weatherwax story (Granny wearing pink?). Plus three sections of art by Josh Kirby, who did many of the covers for the DiscWorld series.

I've been reading all evening. Even did my cooking and dishes with the book propped on the counter.

Now, if you'll excuse me, there are still 42 pages left to read. See you tomorrow!

Christmas; a report

I've been quiet the last few days, but here's what we've been up to.

Christmas dinner was a fun affair. We held it a few days early, because of people's work schedules; one is a nurse, who always works Christmas Eve or Day; another manages a store that opens 365 days a year. But meeting early only increases the fun, since those who have other family can take in two or even three family gatherings.

So this year, about thirty of us gathered in my daughter's new home, in the back half of their antique church/wedding chapel (so it was a house-warming, too); all ages, from a babe in arms to several great-grandparents; old friends and new in-laws. The usual mix-ups: the last-minute notice that, after all, the stove would not be delivered on time, so several of us brought hot-plates; the waiting for late-comers, while we early birds demolished the appetizers and sampled home-made booze; the non-functional lock on the new bathroom door: it all contributed to the feeling of family pulling together. What it's all about, isn't it?

Tree in my daughter's formal living room, made informal by misplaced chairs and stacks of gifts.

But it had its edge of melancholy, too. Laurie was not with me this time. The long drive to Chilliwack, coupled with a late night, was too much for him, because of his injured back, still not completely healed. Two of my sons are in Mexico, this year; we missed them and the kids. Others have health issues. Time goes on, and it's not always kind.

Oh, but the unalloyed joy of the little ones! The excitement of a toddler stumbling after her running older cousins! The serious conversation with said toddler beside a Christmas tree about balls and trees with little boys crawling underneath! The delight of plates and plates and plates of crackers and cheese and gingerbread! With no-one supervising little hands except tolerant grandparents! The mounds of rattling, torn Christmas wrapping for an 8-month old girl to rustle!

Back to earth. Yes, it was a good Christmas.

Laurie made me a card, with his own poem, and gave me, among other things, an antique Japanese ceramic cat.

She already has her favourite spot picked out, on an antique cheese box and reproduction rag rugs.

The 24th and 25th, we spent quietly at home. It was probably unwise to get a flu shot almost on the spur of the moment on Christmas Eve, but then we shouldn't have put it off so long, either. Usually, the shot has no noticeable effect, but this year, both of us were wiped out by it. I couldn't stay awake through a whole conversation all day Christmas. It was almost as if I'd overdosed on trytophan; I hadn't. I ate leftover chicken soup, because I wasn't up to cooking.

But the family and friends Christmas celebrations went on, and I have been following them on Facebook. Every hour or so, there's a new batch of photos and comments, mostly of the younger set. I don't know how we ever got along without this marvellous web before!

And now we've got the preparations for New Years Day, and after that, Dia de los Reyes, January 6th, to think about. The Twelve Days of Christmas have barely started.

I'm thinking about making pozole*, since for Christmas dinner, we did more or less traditional Canadian. (I made my grandmother's sweet yams, with brown sugar, butter, and mini-marshmallows. Yum!)

*Recipe #28 in this list. Or maybe, if I'm energetic enough, I'll make green chile tamales. (Recipe #32.)

I hope all your Christmasses were as good!

Merry, merry!

A very merry Christmas to all!

This year's "tree" is a shell I found in a garage sale*, with my own additions.

Detail of the figures: thread and fabric scraps.

Three more.

*Update: I was mistaken. Laurie bought it for me on Granville Island. Oh, my holey memory!

Christmas past

Not long past: this photo is from last year, at Central City mall, Surrey.

A clear, cold evening, just after dusk.

And tomorrow, for us, will be Christmas present, at a family get-together out in Chilliwack. I probably won't be home 'till late, weather permitting. (See Hugh for proper definition of "weather".)

See you all Sunday. And have a cheery, Solstice/Christmas weekend!

A Skywatch post.

The lustre of mid-day

Just a thought:
No matter what we do to ruin things, Ma Nature quickly gives it a beauty treatment.

Clear-cut logging scar, somewhere up north, 1988. Film camera.

*Afterthought:
But she won't correct the damage we do to ourselves. Or return things to their previous state, no matter how we beg of her.

**After-afterthought:
And it doesn't give us an excuse to go about messing things up.

***Title from T'was the Night Before Christmas.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below.

His heart's in the right place

'Tis the season to be wacky ...

Ginger Santa

Found beltless, hatless, and beardless in the bin at the supermarket. He begged to come home with me. Would have held out his arms to me, if he'd had any.

For Clytie; look for the heart, where it's supposed to be.

It's not easy, being little

Thirty people in a small house that's crowded with a dozen, all ages from toddlers to great-grandparents, all talking at once in three or four languages, mountains of gifts, a half-dozen musical instruments all in use (but separate tunes), the traditional groaning board: it all adds up to a great Christmas Eve family party. But there are a few difficulties along the way.

Lost in a forest of legs.

Past her bedtime.

Mine, too. Goodnight, all! I hope your festivities are as happy-making!

Feliz Navidad!

Two more days until Christmas! Somehow I missed the solstice, and the days are getting longer already! (Well, by a minute or so.) I may not get a chance to log on in the next day or two, so I'll take this opportunity to wish you all; family, friends, fellow bloggers, readers:

The very merriest Christmas ever!

"I want that one!" Christmas, 2009

May your celebrations be full of loving people and happy surprises!

Second day of Christmas, but no turtledoves

December 26, 1:45 AM, our West Coast time. Boxing Day. My daughter just posted a video of family moments since Christmas, last year. My kitchen is clean again, the laundry done, the new goodies are finding their places. Christmas is over, except for the Boxing Day sales, which I have learned to skip. And Dia de los Reyes, the "real" Mexican Christmas, but that's two weeks from now, on Twelfth Night.

I hope you, all my wonderful family, fellow bloggers, old and new friends, everyone, have had as happy a Yule-tide as we have.

It was a wonderful end to the year; most of the family crowded into three rooms, babies, pre-schoolers with important things to discuss (like feeding the ducks), teenagers ("Oh, you've gotten so big!" And the teen addressed this way, for the umpteenth time, politely refrains from rolling his eyes.), out-of-towners, new additions, adults displaying their culinary skills, grandpa Mark making goo-goo noises at the latest infant, someone playing the guitar in the hallway (the only space with elbow room), wrapping paper, baby clothes (So cute!), books and chocolates and flashing cameras ...

The turkey worked out ok, the salad had pomegranate seeds and avocado chunks mixed in; yum! The surprise dish was a Mexican dish, potatoes in a tomato and serrano chile sauce, northern cuisine, really good.

Even the critters participated. Laurie noticed how they were running around excitedly, looking out at the goings-on. The tank is in a quiet corner, but people kept coming in to look inside and point out hermits and crabs to the little ones. I had made out a list of easy-to-find inhabitants:

11 hermit crabs, 3 big shore crabs, 1 small crab, 1 tiny, tiny crab. 3 coonstripe shrimp, 3 trophon snails, several small grey snails (Nassas), 1 green amphipod, barnacles, anemones, limpets, and a tiny black periwinkle snail.

I doubt that anyone was able to do the count, though; not the way the critters were dashing about. They must be much more aware of their surroundings than I thought.

Holly at dusk, White Rock

... and a happy New Year!

(Tomorrow, I'll explain the barnacle photo.)

Exciting stuff, and Christmas, to boot!

Christmas Eve, and the family coming! No time to blog, even about this:

Seeing is believing.

So I'll leave it to you to figure out what's happening. I'll have more on this later.

For now, I must get a bit of sleep before the alarm goes off, and the turkey goes in the oven.

Merry Christmas, everyone!

Christmas menu, 2010

Never the same twice; that's Christmas in my family. This year, everyone is gathering on Christmas Eve in my tiny apartment; we'll be packed in wall to wall, using every available flat surface as dining tables, and everything that can remotely be considered seating pressed into service. The house is cleaned, the decorations are up but don't intrude on the space, dishes sorted, breakables removed from the reach of tiny hands, menu planned and shopping done. The turkey is in the freezer, the hall closet emptied, waiting for jackets ... I think I'm ready.

The meal will start out as a traditional Canadian Christmas dinner; roast turkey, backed potatoes in their jackets,  homemade cranberry sauce, several veggies, a salad. But then we go off the rails. There will be cornbread and Mexican hot sauce. My son is bringing something unnamed, probably a Punjabi dish. For dessert, there's Mexican flan and assorted cheeses. And we'll end with Café de olla, Mexican coffee.

Here's the recipe, as we make it:

In a clay pot*, bring water to a boil, one cup per person. Add one cinnamon stick per cup of water, and simmer for a few minutes to bring out the flavour. If you have piloncillo, the traditional Mexican sugar, add it at this time, and simmer until it disolves. If not, substitute brown sugar or unrefined sugar; you may add this now or later, to taste.

While this simmers, grind well-roasted dark coffee beans, to a medium grind, and measure out one tablespoon of the ground coffee per person into a bowl.

Depending on how long you have simmered the sugar and cinnamon, you may need to top up the water to the original level. Bring to a boil again, and remove from heat. IMMEDIATELY add the coffee, all at once. Stir it down if it foams, and cover it with a lid for about 5 minutes.

Add sugar to taste, and serve from the clay pot with a ladle, pouring it through a fine strainer into clay mugs, if you have them.

Possible additions; semi-sweet baker's chocolate, to taste, simmered with the cinnamon. Or a few cloves, just enough to give a hint of spiciness.

*The coffee can be prepared in a glass saucepan, but it will not have the earthy flavour of coffee made in an olla.