Some kind of merry?

Not exactly my style of decorating. So far, about all I've done is hang a homemade swag of cedar boughs on each of the outside doors and put up a little decoration with a few lights. 

There's something about all that plastic that leaves me feeling about as deflated as the decorations in the photo appear to be. 

It's a question I've asked before, and one I'll ask again: how is it that plastic shopping bags at the supermarket (which most of us reuse at least once for collecting wet garbage) are banned, but gigantic plastic characters are all the rage?

How long must it take for a five-foot-tall plastic snowman to degrade when it goes to the landfill?

And no, I'm not the one who poked holes in all those characters, though I'll admit, I've certainly been tempted. 

"To raisin or not to raisin"

On Saturday, for some strange reason, I decided to make butter tarts--a treat I generally only make at Christmas time. Not really sure why, though it might have had something to do with the fact that I defrosted the freezer and found some pre-made tart shells (lazy, I know). 

But when I went to make the filling, I realized I only had one egg in the fridge, and the recipe was going to need two. So, back to the drawing (dreaming?) board. 

Luckily, Sunday morning was another 'delivery day' from the 'egg lady' who delivers fresh dozens from her farm out in the Fraser Valley. So, as soon as I got home, I made sure the butter was softened and got to work. 

The strangest part, I am sure, is the fact that on Sunday, while I was cleaning up the kitchen, I turned on the radio and heard a feature on--you guessed it--butter tarts!

For years I've told people in my family that, if they wanted the recipe, they'd have to wait as "it's in the will." It's a recipe I was given by Betty, my once-upon-a-time mother-in-law, and she made it clear that it was special and to be kept private. So, imagine my dismay when I found pretty much the exact recipe in an old Canadian cookbook. Still, to be kind to the memory of Betty, I'm not saying which cookbook.  

My only question now is: why don't I make these more often?

Believers

Once, long ago, there were two little girls--not Heidi and Lulu, but Heidi and Lisa--sisters, who believed in all of the magic of Christmas. They believed so hard that one Christmas Eve, the two of them stood beside the bedroom window and watched, hoping. 

And then, it happened. They saw it together: a sleigh pulled by reindeer, gliding through the night sky. 

It flew past quickly, but both of them knew they'd seen it, and to this day both can recall what a thrilling sight it was.

Simply the power of suggestion? Or, the power of belief made real. 

Whatever you choose to believe, here's hoping your holidays are magically wonderful.  

Imagine the other side of the world

This is how I'm imagining Orthodox Christmas might look in Ukraine. And yes, today is the day that much of the world, especially people in Eastern Europe, celebrate Christmas. 

The burning candle in the lantern is beautiful, but if I were in Ukraine, it might well be my only light, as so much of the country is without power. 

This is another day to be grateful -- for so many everyday luxuries we mostly take for granted: electricity and speedy Internet, water that's clean enough to drink from the tap -- and while we're at it, water that's hot on demand. 

Gettin' ready...

I'm one of those people who take a long time getting ready to do things -- almost anything. And Christmas is one of those long-to-prep celebrations. 

First place to start is summertime, picking berries. That's when the jams that will be gifts start getting made. 

Probably all year long, I enjoy trolling second-hand stores. It seems I always find something or other that goes into my stash of potential gifts for Christmas time (though birthday gifts often arrive this way too). 

One of the most fun parts of my big preparations is the making of the cards. This is a tradition, probably ten years on now, where my friend and I sit across from each other at the table (piled with our crafty supplies) and create our one-of-a-kind greeting cards. 

Yes, they've all been mailed by now. I can only hope they've all arrived at their destinations. 

From here, it's just a matter of continuing with the baking and other cooking (Swedish meatballs tonight, Cornish hens tomorrow). 

Whatever you do to celebrate, however you prepare for the day, I send my best wishes for a way to spend time with people you care about -- and yes, before too many more days go by -- some time to sit back and do nothing. 

Merry Christmas, reboot

Today's the day that many people around the world celebrate Orthodox Christmas. We're among them, though we do so in a smaller way than on December 25th. 

It's easy enough to get in the mood, especially with so much of our local world looking like a Christmas card. The photo is one I took while we were out for a walk in our neighbourhood. 

Often, it turns out that the last week of December will be cold here. But this year, that cold spell has extended well into the new year, and managed to break a number of temperature (and snow depth) records along the way. 

I'm mostly grateful that today's Christmas celebration will be much lower key than that other one. No one's coming over to open gifts (there aren't any), and there won't be a turkey in the oven, not even a fresh batch of butter tarts. Though on second thought, I may have to rethink that last bit. 

Christmas Redux

We must love Christmas more than most people do, as today we're observing it again. Why? Because today is Orthodox Christmas. 

The day started with a big breakfast, one that's lasted us long enough that we can wait 'til supper for a Christmas dinner.

Presents aren't a part of this celebration. In fact, tomorrow we'll be packing away any gifts still sitting under the tree (not an evergreen, a decorated hibiscus). That's when we'll also be taking down the lights and other decorations. 

The amaryllis, now on its second branch of blossoms, can stay for a while. Its beauty helps dispel the mostly rainy days we've had of late and seems to offer the promise of spring. 

One of a kind

At least we're certainly hoping that this Christmas holiday will not need to be repeated. No family gatherings, no Solstice party, and certainly no big gala for New Year's Eve. 

Still, it's giving us memories we won't forget. 

Think of the stories from the pandemic of 1918 -- the year my father was born. I can only imagine how worried my gramma must have been, hoping she wouldn't get sick while she was pregnant. 

We'll all have our own stories, though I'm sure we'll be happier when they're well in the rear-view mirror. 

Onward, towards the new year, but for now, let's celebrate Christmas. 

The blessings of friendship

This is the time of year when many of us think about friends, especially those from long ago, ones we hope to stay in contact with. 

I'm one of those oddballs who still likes to send (and receive!) Christmas cards. 

Quite a few of the ones I send are homemade, often using bits of old cards, recycling them into new creations. 

This one was quite fun, already such a beautiful Christmas tree. All I had to do was tear the paper around it and attach it to a green piece of cardstock (that I'd added gold and red bands to). But then, the most fun part of all: in my collection of paper clips, I found a star-shaped one. So I cut a hole near the top of the tree and clipped it in. To cover the torn spot, I stuck on a glittery red circle. Voila! 

And yes, this one's going to a friend from long-ago, one I've been lucky enough to find and reconnect with. Something I treasure. 

But I've also been rediscovering other kinds of friends -- the kind in the image at the top of this post -- like that darling girl, Anne with an E. 

I think I might have started this kick earlier this fall when I went back to Philip Pullman's wonderful series, 'His Dark Materials' and reread the first in that trilogy, The Golden Compass. There's nothing quite like riding along with Lyra, hanging on to the fur of a very big polar bear. 

Ah, so blessed am I -- even when I can't hang out with my usual, nearby friends, I can still pal about with those friends in the pages of well-loved books. 

Neighbourly

The other day, the doorbell rang -- an odd occurrence these days. One of my neighbours was standing on the deck with a mask on her face (but of course) and a gift in her hand. She'd noticed that we still had (have) a pumpkin out front and figured it was time for us to shift seasons. 

She brought us this lovely little wreath she had made. To match the "Peace to all who enter" flag by our door, she made it in the shape of a peace sign (hard to see, as it's now interwoven with the black metal knocker). 

Besides getting me into a little bit of the spirit, the wreath has made me think about just what this year's Christmas will be like. 

It doesn't look as though we'll be able to have friends or family over for any kind of celebrating (not even the traditional Solstice celebration), as with rising numbers, we all need to be vigilant towards keeping safe. 

So instead, I plan to make up tiny gift packets for my neighbours. I'll leave them on doorsteps and pretend that Santa's responsible. 

We can all only hope that this year's Christmas with its restrictions and worries is one we'll never have to observe the same way again. 

Not quite the usual

No poinsettia this year, but when we were walking with Nadia the dog, this little spot of brightness out in the field was impossible to ignore.

People who read this blog will know that this December has been unusual for us, one we won't forget -- ever.

I for one am looking forward to the coming days and new year being better and better and better.

Best wishes for a happy Christmas, or Hanukkah or whatever holiday you observe with those you love.

Celebratory

Not a white Christmas here (photo from last year), but that's fine with me. A lovely one in so many ways, too many to list.

However you celebrate this season, I hope it is festive and stress-free.

Season for recycling

It's again been the time of year when my friend and I make Christmas cards.

This year I took a somewhat different tack than usual. Rather than relying on the wealth of supplies I've accumulated over the years, I decided to try using as many 'old' cards as I could -- recycling them into 'new' cards by cutting and pasting and decorating them.

Some were easier to use than others -- nice, tight little designs that lent themselves to being reused, sometimes even in combination with bits from other cards.

The results, if I do say so, were pretty good, with a few I almost hate to send away.

And I'll admit, because I even tried to use cards from specific people to make 'new' cards that will go to them this year, it'll be interesting to see whether any of them notice their 'old' card coming back to them with happy holiday greetings.

The power of believing

Over the years, it's been a bit of a tradition for me to write about some of our family's traditions as we celebrate the return of the light at Solstice and, of course, the things we do to observe Christmas.

One of the oddest of these has to be our "Christmas Pig" -- the one in the photo above. It's hard to remember when he began taking up position, playing guard at the end of our walkway each December. But there he sits, year after year, on a complicated bicycle sculpture that's always illuminated by many coloured lights.

This year, he got an added topping of snow. As it melted, it turned to ice, giving him a decidedly punkish coif. Just as Charlotte wrote in her magical web, I have to agree: "SOME PIG!"

But believing in Christmas magic is what's been on my mind. Best of all was the experience I shared with my sister, when we looked out the window and saw (yes, we both swear to it -- and we were way too young to drink) the magical sleigh, flying through the sky, pulled along by that famous team of reindeer.

And even later, another Christmas miracle: this time when I was (still) an adult. One Christmas morning, my kids and I went out to the backyard and were amazed to find parallel marks gouged into the snow, surely the tracks of a sleigh.

Although the kids pestered me, accusing me of making the marks, I knew positively that I hadn't made then, nor could I have been as precise if I'd tried. Besides, no footprints accompanied the tracks.

A prank by a neighbour? I doubt it, as we had only lived in that particular house for about two months and really didn't know anyone who lived nearby. In fact, our next door 'neighbour' was a lumber yard -- an unlikely source for elfish tricks.

I attribute these sights to the power of belief. And if you're lucky enough to have someone in your life who is young enough (or young-at-heart enough) to have such strong beliefs in the Magic of the Season, you are truly blessed.

As for the rest of us, I can only suggest that we all try -- even for just a few minutes -- to believe. Because, if we do, who knows? Maybe tonight, even pigs will fly.

Sending Happy Christmas greetings to friends and family near and far, with hopes that you indeed find time to believe.

No two the same

Hmm. Looks as though I must be on another of my kicks to keep Canada Post in business -- all on my own. That isn't really the reason I still send cards, mostly it's because I love making them.

Many of them are made from bits and pieces of cards that people have sent me. Some of them are more involved -- layers of stamps and stickers -- or my favourite: getting out the pencil crayons and colouring.

Luckily, my friend and I started early this year. We closed up our 'crafts shop' early in November. But now, here it is, almost mid-December, and I'm still deciding who gets what and sending them out.

Oh well, there'll be plenty of other things to do this month. But then, aren't there always?

A tradition of keeping non-traditional traditions

The end of the year -- a time for thought, evaluation, and maybe reconsideration of things that may no longer be of value.

This Christmas I've been quietly examining some of the holiday traditions we practise here in the 'tree fort' behind the cedars.

Bottom-line is I'm pretty much a traditionalist, even if some of those traditions are a bit non-traditional or at least not conventional ones.

As an example, our Christmas Eve tradition means that quite a few people -- family and friends -- come over for a big supper. The menu has remained fixed for decades: Swedish meatballs with egg noodles. And no, we're not Swedish. Nor is anyone in the circle of diners who gather around the table that night. There's a story behind the meatballs, of course, but because everyone in the vicinity of the table groans if I even begin to mention it, know that you too shall be spared this retelling.

The Christmas tradition includes way too many sweets, with baking starting days before the big event. Most of these are confections I make every year -- butter tarts, cinnamon cookies, chocolate-dipped apricots (that have been soaking in brandy since November).

There's even tradition with these, as the butter tart recipe was given to me by my former mother-in-law and the formula for the cookies came down from my Grampa Jim. He was a baker in a hospital and the surviving recipe is one that's been cut down from the mammoth proportions he needed for the hundreds he made. The apricots, though I've made them for many years, carry less mystique. I'm pretty sure I found those in a Woman's Day or Family Circle, magazines where I often took quiet refuge when my kids were growing up. (And I'll admit to some surprise that both of these publications still exist, perhaps providing inspiration or escape to some other harried mother.)

One tradition I've always tried to carry on (besides making a donation to the food bank) is to ensure that everyone in the family gets a toy for Christmas -- this despite the fact that all of us are now 'too old' for toys.

This year, my kids saw to it that this tradition applied to me, with both of them giving me a fantastic toy -- my very own Lego. It's one of those spectacular 'idea sets' -- the Yellow Submarine, complete with four Beatles and a Jeremy. It took a while to assemble the 550 or so pieces, but the time was so relaxing, I loved every minute. It helped that the parts were divided into five bags, complete with warning to not open the next bag until all the bits from the previous one had been used. Reviews of the set make it look like just about everyone who got one of these has had fun with it.

So, what did I learn from playing with Lego? Probably the most valuable part of the gift was that it forced me to 'play' at something with no consequence whatsoever. And maybe the best part of that experience was that looking at the finished submarine still makes me smile, maybe even makes my shoulders go down a little bit. So maybe the tradition I most want to add to my list of non-traditional traditions is the resolve to do something mindless more often, to remember the importance of play.

And with that I say, On to the new year!

To market, to market...

Today was the last day for the local Farmers' Market -- at least for 2016. Because it's December, there wasn't much available in the way of produce, but the vendors made up for that with trinkets, crafts and a huge assortment of baked goods. There were also plenty of jars of jam, jelly and juice -- the traditional preserves resulting from summer's bounty.

I was lucky enough to get there just in time to get the last dozen eggs from my faithful supplier. She's kind enough to come into town during the winter so we don't have to resort to store-bought (tired) ones.

The marketplace (indoor this time of year) was festive, with people buying poinsettias and extending early Merry Christmas wishes to each other.

Even for a humbugger like me, the carols (unlike the annoyingly tinny ones at the mall), played on an accordion, helped set the tone of neighbourly warmth.

The ritual of the farmers' market is an example of community at its best. Come May, when it's back outside, we'll be there Sunday mornings -- even if not 'to buy a fat pig.' And as always, while we go about choosing our fruit and vegies we'll chat and hug and laugh with each other, recognizing that even if we don't live next door each other, we're neighbours.

Finishing up the Christmases

Yesterday was Orthodox Christmas, the day when thousands of Christians around the world celebrated the holiday that most of us have already put behind us.

The amaryllis that burst into blossom on December 25th has finished and its flowers are shriveling into what looks red crepe paper. Even the Christmas cactus has begun to drop its spent petals.

So today seems like the day to finally get the last of the decorations down and put away.

I've already put a few of the sugary treats into the freezer. I'm sure it'll be fun (and tasty) to have a butter tart or two in June.

For now, it's a time look forward, onward to a still pretty shiny-new year. It's one with no explicit resolutions, but plenty of already-formed and half-dreamed plans.

Once upon a time, I believed

Once upon a time, Christmas Eve was the day my dad would go shopping for gifts. My sister and I often got to go along on these last-minute excursions. It was lucky for us, as we usually wouldn't have bought anything for our mother by then either.

He'd give us each a dollar. That narrowed it down, didn't it.

One of the best-ever (I thought) gifts was a cookbook I bought her -- and yes, that faded brown thing in the photo is it. I was surprised, and a little bit hurt, that she didn't seem very thrilled by it.

Looking back, I can see that she might have taken it as an insult to her cooking. That wasn't the intent, though I suppose she could have used some help in that department, or at least encouragement. Weirdly, I still make several recipes from it -- it's the best for basics like pancakes or biscuits -- and the best-ever barbecue ribs come from it as well.

But the thing was, it fit the bill -- literally -- as it cost a dollar.

A baster is there too (not that it's the original) as it was another one of my 'inspired' one-dollar gifts for her. And this probably came about because one of my dad's favourite stores for his last-minute shopping was not a dress shop or a jeweller's, but a place he was likely more familiar with, the hardware store. There was something about going there with him that will always make visiting a hardware store feel a lot like Christmas to me.

Best cheers, however you celebrate, to all!

Winterish

It's still ten days until the arrival of Solstice, but this morning's sky looked wintry. Not in a bad way, it just had that look that comes with this time of year. As if it were quietly waiting -- maybe for Santa. 

The celebrations have begun too. Last night was the annual gathering of BC Publishers, always a good party, with tons of great food and friends. After that, a fundraiser event with poets reading from the fine new anthology, The Revolving City. More good friends, more good times. 

And I suppose the calendar, along with all this celebrating also means it’s just about time for the baking and treat-making to begin in earnest here at home. So, what am I doing, typing here in my room?!