Time Sallies Forth

Time "sallies forth" sounds much gayer than "marches on".  Of course, Einstein might suggest that it "bends it like Beckham". No matter, today is the last day of 2008 and tomorrow the first of 2009. Blessings, good tidings, riches, and all good things to you and yours this coming year and for always.

These are a few photos taken recently: Maisie at home in her retro ski hat (can't really see the great Phil and Steve Mayer striping on the side), and then at Willard Beach last Sunday when it was near 60 degrees; tonight, after a day of snowing, it is 6 degrees with a windchill in the negative.

A little berry in the snow

People don't notice whether it is winter or summer when they're happy.  Anton Chekhov

Merry Christmas to One and All and Peace Be With You

I told Heather today that after listening to a radio program on MPR today, I almost wished I were English or Christian because of the language.  I may not be Christian in my beliefs, but I do strongly believe in the spirit of the season and the traditions of the Pagan/Druid roots, so it is in that spirit I offer you this gift:Once in Royal David's City.

Thanks Be to God.

Merriment

The Haynes family get together was Saturday.  Jack did his best interpretation of "What Santa Looked Like As a Baby".  On Sunday was the Benson get together, once again at the Masonic Temple in Gorham.  Maisie added to her piano playing reportoire with her impersonation of Stevie Wonder.

Happy Solstice. Bon Hiver.

Ghosts of Christmas' Past

It's been three years since I last saw my father alive.  They were on their way to visit me in Maine for the holiday and their truck broke down in Vermont, so they went back to NY after getting it up and servicable.  So, I went there.  For a few days.  Then it was maybe four, then five, then...I think I stayed a week. It was the first time I had been home in a while and in years by myself. Much to my surprise I had a good time. 

The thing I remember the most about the time I spent there is going to Northville in the truck with him and Abby to the feed store and then we went to the Adirondack Country  Store.  I bought a book about Bigfoot sightings in the Northeast, a bar of pine soap and some quilted coasters.

He died in his sleep four months later.

Memories...all alone in the moonlight...

Sometimes I am seized with a yearning for place.  It is often a composite landscape composed of real and realer than real components.  Usually this homeland of the soul is outside, artic cold, wooded, snowy.  I feel invigorated and at peace when I am able to conjure these "memories".  Sometimes, they are actual memories of growing up in the Adirondacks and especially of my dog sled driving youth, but even then the feeling of being on the sled gliding through the woods was so familiar and reminiscent. I have lately taken to checking the Lapland Lake website for the current weather conditions. (This is a place I worked one season) I want to say this activity leaves me fraught with homesickness, but it is something even more.  I feel the same longing when the wind blows into me a certain way, or the naked branches of winter trees rub limb against limb or the silent falling of the snow creates a hush over the landscape-even in the city. Some of the works at Dog Star Creations have the same effect. The poetry of Frost and Mary Oliver can drop me to my knees in a snowy field at dusk when I am sitting at my computer in July. What is this cellular pull?  I don't know, but I do know it makes me heartsick to imagine a world without ice and snow, frost and breath hanging in the air like smoke from a peace pipe. I fear that my daughter will never know this beautiful, bountiful winter scape...or even come to despise it as so many people claim they do. So for now, I will continue my love affair with winter  and revel in it's pleasures and pray for its survival and the survival of my remembered home.  I plead you do the same.