My holiday packages finally got shipped today. We have a rule in my sibling gift exchange that presents be handmade, vintage, or sustainable, and making gifts always takes longer than expected, as does remembering to pick up enough of the extra little treats to fill up the flat rate boxes (and remembering to pick up enough flat rate boxes). Then there's the wrapping and packaging and taping and addressing. Still, I lay the blame for the late hour squarely on the storm we had Monday--24 hours of high winds that snapped trees back and forth like licorice whips and sideways-driving rain that washed away the last remnants of that lovely snow pictured above and resulted in near-historic flooding around the state.
We fared well at our home--one big leader on a tall, multi-topped pine tree came down near the driveway but landed mostly in the woods. Thanks to the sun god and solar panels, we carried on listening to holiday music and baking cookies and watching Christmas movies while those around us lit candles and waited in line for generator gas. The day after the storm I went out to try to get some of the errands that had been waylaid to find roads closed, waters still rising (the flooding didn't peak for another day), power out, businesses closed, and traffic lights turned into free-for-alls in a state unfamiliar with four-way stops. Overhearing other people's tales of woe as I elfed my way through Target and Hannaford, I gained a new appreciation of our good fortune, and I released all my holiday stress--the packages will get to where they need to get sooner or later. Isn't that why there are 12 days of Christmas anyway, to cover shipping delays?
In my holiday shopping rambles I picked up a lovely book called The Christmas Chronicles by Nigel Slater at the used bookstore. It's filled with essays and photos and recipes to cover the whole winter season, with a distinctly British vibe (though it appear to include trips to other European holiday highlights, like the Christmas markets of Nuremberg). I've only read the first bit, which is about berries the hedgerows in wintertime, but I think it's going to help answer the question I've been mulling since this time last year--how to fill the gaps left behind by setting aside some of the holiday traditions that I incorporated into our year's end when the kids were small (Christmas Book Countdown; St. Nicholas day treats in shoes; St. Lucia Day saffron buns; Solstice Night hike into the woods and bonfire; etc.) I have visions of future Decembers spent cozy indoors with a hot drink and a good book or walking in the snowy (or not so snowy) woods and paying close attention to the berries and branches.
I did gather mosses before that first snow to fill two terraria to observe through the winter, which I can see becoming a new routine, and I've carried on the tradition I started over the last couple of years of watching *all* the Christmas movies on our streaming service. I usually watch them as an accompaniment to knitting or crafting gifts, wrapping or or folding laundry or cleaning house--they don't require too much attention. And the old classics, like White Christmas and Miracle on 34th Street, which I know practically by heart and which are too long to sit still through, I'll let run in the background while I bake over the next couple of days, popping into the living room for the good scenes. I hope to carve out some quiet time this weekend to sit by the tree, sipping eggnog and reading David Sedaris's Santaland Diaries, because I am always up for a holiday laugh.
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