Miss Mouse has been hanging on my tree since 1967. Her Santa outfit is made of paper and I have colored it with red markers periodically over 40 years. The ornament behind her is glass and belonged to my Hungarian grandmother. They have both (and others like them) been a part of my life for a very long time. Every Christmas a new one joins the others on this "tree of life." Each one cherished. Marked with the date and giver, carefully wrapped and unwrapped every year. Clearly one of the joys of Christmas for me.

But since moving into this house in CT and not having much room for a tree - I have not taken out these ornaments five Christmases. We've done with smaller trees and dressed them with red balls tied on with red ribbons. They were lovely to look at, and easy to dress and if the new kitten knocked anything off it wasn't a great loss. Everyone complimented the tree but something was lacking...

This year we went to our usual place for a Christmas tree, the Gilbert's tree farm (parents of Elizabeth Gilbert of Eat Pray Love fame). It's also the place where we get our wonderful local honey. This year the tree was just a little bigger.

We put the lights on the tree and went looking for the red balls. They were nowhere to be found. Christmas Eve was fast approaching and reluctantly I gave up the search and dusted off the one of the "old" Christmas boxes that has been patiently waiting in a corner of the basement.

And there in the first box, right on top, peaking out of her tissue paper was Miss Mouse. It was so good to see her! It was like an old friend had come to visit. I danced her around the living room and then placed her in a prominent spot so that I could see her from any seat in the room. I unpacked other old friends and placed them on the tree. Each one evoked another Christmas another time. Each ornament brought another smile to my face.

This is what I had missed, this is what the red tree lacked, friends. Memories. History. One of my friends asked me in an email "what fabulous thing did you get for Christmas?" Well, now I know... I got a visit from a very special mouse.

The Winter Solstice

The shortest day of the year. My 10th grade Latin is a bit rusty (it was then too) but the word solstice comes from the Latin sol (Sun) and sistere (stand still), Winter Solstice meaning Sun standing still in winter. It’s a lovely image that I embrace – especially tonight. I am finally still.

I finished the quilts I was commissioned to do by Susan St. James as Christmas gifts for her family in memory of the son she lost – Teddy Ebersol. She’s a lovely lady and there was no way I could have refused such a sacred task but it was a bit insane to do six quilts in twelve weeks. Fortunately as the deadline loomed two good friends (Robin Brass & Karen Eckmeier) brought lunch and took up needles and thread and helped me do the last of the hand work. How kind they were and how lovely to sew together!

I packed the last one up on Wednesday morning and delivered the quilts to Susan’s to be opened Christmas morning in their Colorado home. I hope they enjoy them as much as I did.

Here is a picture of Phil holding one of the quilts up - Maggie Mae is very interested:

I took off the rest of the day and met my darling daughter-in-law in Border Books for coffee and Christmas shopping. Our good friend Richard came along to do a bit of shopping for his own and we took time for a buffet lunch in a local Indian restaurant. I couldn’t believe I wasn’t working at the computer or sewing. It was wonderful!

On the way back we passed an old barn that Richard and I have both wanted to photograph. We tried to get a good shot of it but it was hard without telephone wires or cars in the picture. We waited for traffic to clear and scooted out into the road. It was freezing.

The way the ground settled made the buildings lines wavy – just the way I imagine that life well-lived leaves us with some wavy lines but still standing.

I think I will sit still some more, nursing a bit of asthma bronchitis and think more about a life well lived...

and friends like you.

This is the little birdhouse that sits on my porch. It's mainly decorative by virtue of the fact that no birds have nested in it. The housing market is bad all over.

It was about 10 am when the snow started falling in the gentle rolling hills of Northwest CT. We went out to move our cars in the driveway so that the snow plow could cut a swath from the street to the end of our driveway. By the time the cars in position the snow had started coming down in a hurry.

There was a half inch of the fluffy stuff on our deck in no time. It was soft and light and I could sweep it away with the broom still standing there to sweep off the last of the leaves. Typical of our preparation, our snow shovels were still in the basement. How unlike the snows of my childhood when my dad was in charge.

My father was just as happy as any kid when it snowed even though his drive home from his construction job in NY City might take many times longer than the usual hour and he would have to shovel the snow when he arrived.

And what a shovel Pop had! Not one of those light-weight bright orange ones that are stacked by the dozens in your local supermarket or in super stores screaming their sameness. It was a serious shovel, purchased with consideration for its quality and durability.

The metal scoop looked like the plow on a truck and lifting the shovel without a load of snow would be a strain for me but Pop lifted it like a feather. It cut a path from our Levittown door, down the driveway and into the street. Snow piled up on either side as Pop swung the shovel in the air and snow showered down for the second time.

While Pop worked, I played. I made snowmen with my mother and had snowball fights with the neighborhood kids. We built igloos and forts and snow angels. We stayed out in it until our snowsuits were soaked and our lips were blue. Conditions easily remedied by dry clothes and hot chocolate.

We were kids and it was the best time in life.

So... I didn't build a snowman today or made a snow angel. But I thought about my Dad and enjoyed the snow - even the removal part.

And who knows, there's always tomorrow...

On the way out this morning - slipping and sliding on my icy driveway - I stopped to take a picture of this tiny rhododendron doing it's best in the rain & chill wind. Nature is so amazing.

"I thank you God for this most amazing day, for the leaping greenly spirits of trees, and for the blue dream of sky and for everything which is natural, which is infinite, which is yes. " ~e.e. cummings

“I believe that there is a subtle magnetism in Nature, which, if we unconsciously yield to it, will direct us aright.” ~Henry David Thoreau

Phil & I went for a walk in our near by nature preserve on Sunday morning. It had just begun to snow. Every year we try to be there for the first flakes of the season.

It’s a little over a two mile walk around a pond—that includes two bridges and a boardwalk that goes out over the water. It’s our favorite place to walk. It calms us and reminds us we are part of a grander universe and reminds us to be grateful for the day.

Happy Thanksgiving!

I have so much to be grateful for—family, friends, my kitties and you—but this Thanksgiving I thought I would tip my verbal hat to the man who taught me to be grateful, my Dad. Before my father died on Halloween/ Samhain in 2000 at the ripe old age of 89, he told me that he had never regretted a day in his life and that he never had a morning when he didn’t want to get up and go to work.

For him problems were challenges and tough times not only built character, it showed it. He could fix almost anything. He could captivate an audience telling one of his stories and he listened with the intensity that most people reserve for speaking. And whether I was heading off to grade school, or heading home from visiting him in Florida, his last words were never be careful or take care but have fun. He enjoyed every minute he lived and was grateful for each new day. Have fun was the last thing he ever said to me and it was really good advice. And now I give it to you—have fun. It will give you a lot to be grateful for.

Thanks Pop!

One year ago today we lost Tommy. We still miss him. This is what I wrote and we still fee this way.

It is with a heavy hearts that we tell you of the loss of one of our best friends – Thomas O’Malley Cat. There are very few people who touched our hearts as much as Tommy touched ours. He had been badly abused when he first came to us and in his infinite wisdom never held it against the rest of humanity for one person’s cruelty. Those of you, who knew him, were aware of his special ability to give comfort to those in need. He sat in more laps being stroked while tears fell on his head than most of us. He touched their hearts as he touched ours. I can not imagine how much we will miss him – the hole he will leave in our lives is enormous. I can only hope to emulate his kindness, his wisdom and his unconditional love. He was an inspiration – more that you would think possible for a mere cat – but he was never ‘mere’ in anything he did or was. And I am grateful that he was part of our family for so long and is now a part of Gods. We (still) love you, Tommy. Mom & Dad, Shayna, Katie, and Maggie Mae.