Every Year, the Same

Every New Year's Eve, like everyone else I know,
I sit down to take stock.
And, what can I say here to you?
Every year my findings are the same.


In the year of our Lord, two thousand and nine...


It came.
We lived it.
We laughed and played as much as possible.
We were too busy.
We tried hard, but didn't always live our priorities.
We had a lot of fun. A lot.
We had a lot of laughs. A lot.

The year was good.
They are all good.
If only because there was much love and the difficulties brought with them important lessons.
For me, every past year was good, at least in reflection.

Do I just have rose colored glasses permanently attached to my rearview mirrors??
I think I must.


Hmmm....
I like that. I do.

What a great way to live.
No regrets.
No sorrowful musings.
Just gratitude for the lessons.
Gratitude for the blessings.
Excitement about the future.

Here's to rose colored rearview mirrors.
Happy new year, my friends.
Be safe tonight.

The image above is by the glorious Michael Kahn.

Christmas Glipses

I can't believe we never did this before.
Sloane slept under the tree this Christmas Eve, and it was magical.
She bundled up and fell asleep to the quiet murmur of parents and grandparents reminiscing in front of the fireplace nearby.
She slept sweetly with a soft glow of Christmas lights illuminating her face.
She woke rubbing her sleepy eyes and blinking at all the magic.

And me? Well, I'm so glad that the magic never really ends.

Click here for more peeks at our Christmas. Listen.

Not Quite Over...

I like the European custom of Christmas extending past the 25th and lasting into the new year. I love the days after Christmas. All the hurry and scurry, hustle and bustle is over and our family has time to just settle in and enjoy. Enjoy time. Enjoy laughter. Enjoy each other. Enjoy games and baked treats and time together. It's the absolute only time of year that we plan nothing beyond pleasure and time with family and friends. Even vacations, as fun as they are, can leave us exhausted. But this glorious, quiet week is our best gift to ourselves. The gift of time to just be present. Be here. Be happy.


Wishing you quiet time with your family this week. Time to read, to blog, to laugh, to play games, to bake, to sit and talk for hours after a delicious dinner. Wishing you time to be present, be here. be happy. Merry After-Christmas, my friends.



Just a few glimpses around our little enchanted cottage this Christmas. More tomorrow. Listen.

Christmas Eve

Thinking of how many things there are still to do.
Then thinking again that a little bit more time here with my friends in blogland is what I really need.

Thinking grumpy thoughts about school districts that don't let you out until December 23rd.
Then thinking grateful thoughts about having a job I love and friends I love to share it with.

Wishing our VCR hadn't broken so we could watch Sloane watch Home Alone for the first time.
Then wishing I'd never forget the magic of laughing with an eight year old. Thank God for laughter. And for cheap DVDs.

Thinking of delicious Christmasy things like the three wheelbarrow loads of wood we hauled into the garage. There is four to eight inches of snow foretasted for tonight. It will be the first Christmas snow in these parts in nine years.

Grinning as Sloane wiggles and says, "Momma, you didn't forget to buy my Christmas pajamas did you?"

Feeling refreshed after my quiet morning among you all. Feeling ready to don my elf hat and tackle that to do list. Christmas is nearly here, my friends! Yippie!!

And, in case I don't see you tomorrow,

Merry Christmas to you and yours from all of us in Team Lawson.

Christmas Unphotographable

I saw something today that seemed to me to be a peek into heaven. Today was the Christmas pageant at church.

A placid, sweet-faced donkey named Bentley patiently carried a young Mary on his back.
You had to grin when you noticed Mary's gym socks peeking out below her hem.

A small choir of baby angels in white satin dresses, gold tinsel halos, and feathered wings;
all so excited, so beautiful.

A crowd of rowdy shepherds herding their single sheep; named Doug.
You had to grin when you noticed Doug nibbling on the toes of nearby little girl.

A choir of adults singing carols to tell the Christmas story.
You had to grin when the young guitar player and drummer began to rock Joy to the World.


And then the shepherds moved to the manger, in front of the angel choir.
Hmmm...
Tough to see around those big boys.
One little angel couldn't see at all. And that just wouldn't do.

So she stood on her tippy-tippy toes,
propped herself on two sets of shoulders and peeked around.
No way was she going to miss seeing what was in that manger.


And it hit me.
That's exactly what the angels did in heaven that night so long ago.
They were so excited they just couldn't wait to see for themselves.
They just had to sing about it.

They filled the very heavens with their song.
Picture that.

A multitude of the heavenly hosts.
Filling the sky.
Proclaiming

Glory to God in the highest.
And on Earth peace, good will toward men.

Sunday Morning Poetry

A Dog's Christmas Poem
by Shel Silverstein

Tonight's my first night as a watchdog,
And here it is Christmas Eve.
The children are sleepin' all cozy upstairs,
While I'm guarding the stockin's and tree.

What's THAT now...footsteps on the rooftop?
Could it be a cat or a mouse?
Who's THIS down the chimney?
A thief with a beard- And a big sack for robbin' the house?

I'm barkin'... I'm growlin'... I'm bitin' his butt.
He howls and jumps back in his sleigh.
I scared his strange horses, they leap in the air.
I've frightened the whole bunch away.

Now the house is all peaceful and quiet again.
The stockin's are safe as can be.
Won't the kiddies be glad when they wake up tomorrow...
And see how I've guarded the tree.

For this and many more wonderful dog images, be sure to visit dancingshiba's photostream. Listen.

I Never Told You...

Life is so abundant, full and rich and just incredible, isn't it? There have been so many great things happen lately that I haven't taken the time to tell you. Yo Yo Ma. Ah. I can't even type his name without smiling. That concert was a once in a lifetime event. I don't just mean because the tickets cost the earth. I mean because things will never come together in that exactly perfect way again. He was incredible! The man played for more than an hour - never with a single sheet of music. Everything, everything was memorized.

It moved me to tears as I watched his enthusiasm for music. There were times when the orchestra would be playing without him. His entire body followed the music like a sunflower follows the sun. He just swayed so gracefully toward whatever section was playing at the moment.

When he was playing, he would get so excited, so passionate, that he would pop out of his seat. Literally. He would just pop up and right back down, playing perfectly all the while. His excitement and energy made me feel kindred. I often get so excited about my passions that I quite literally can't stay still. Watching Yo Yo Ma enjoy the music he was making brought such another dimension of pleasure to my own listening. So many musicians seem to be concentrating so hard on what they are doing. I love to see musicians just let go and play with their hearts.

Watching Yo Yo Ma and the St. Louis Symphony was very like watching LaVay Smith and the Red Hot Skillet Lickers. The music is totally different, of course. It's that they all just had so much fun. Even more, the concert it was like a really good worship service at church. The music is alive; a living, breathing, growing thing and we're all along for the ride. All of us a part of it, whether we are playing, singing, dancing, or just present to live in such a magic moment.



The illustration above is by the very talented Octavian Illustration. You can buy her work here or visit her blog here. For one more delight today, click here.

Lovely Words

“Tell me what you feel in your room when the full moon is shining in upon you and your lamp is dying out,
and I will tell you how old you are,
and I shall know if you are happy.”

~ Henri Frederic Amiel

Image by one of my favorite photographers, Xavier Fargas.

Don't We All Have Our Secret Things?

And this is a good winter. Some rain. But there have been frosts, mostly, and clear skies, and I had my old, familiar dream of ice in the waves last night. Our house is warm. I was worried, at first, that it might not be, for its windows are huge, and the floors are more wooden than not. But we have lived through several winters in it, before this one, and we know how it is there, now-where the warmest places are. The landing; the attic room, where he paints; the kitchen, of course. It matters-for if I'm to walk about in the cold, by a wintry sea, I want to return to a house of heat, and kettles, and radio songs. And a bath to run. It's all part of it. Don't we all have our secret things?

* I love to take down a box of old pictures and spend an hour laughing, remembering. *
* I love to go to my Mom's house, light a candle, dim the lights, and soak in her huge tub with a great book in my hands. *
* I love to come home to a crackling fire and a pot of stew at the ready. *
* I love to wedge my chilled feet between Jeffrey's warm legs. *
* I love to sit at the table and write a letter while the radio plays sentimental, old songs. *
* I love to reread old favorite books. It's just like checking in with an old friend. *
* I love to wash a big pile of dishes while I listen to Winter Solstice on my iPod. *

What are your secret things? The quiet pleasures of this winter season?


Excerpt from the most amazing book, Oystercatchers by Susan Fletcher.

Sunday Morning Poetry

Wintersong

The lake is frozen over
The trees are white with snow
And all around
Reminders of you
Are everywhere I go

It's late and morning's in no hurry
But sleep won't set me free
I lie awake and try to recall
How your body felt beside me
When silence gets too hard to handle
And the night too long

And this is how I see you
In the snow on Christmas morning
Love and happiness surround you
As you throw your arms up to the sky
I keep this moment by and by

Oh I miss you now, my love
Merry Christmas, merry Christmas,
Merry Christmas, my love

Sense of joy fills the air
And I daydream and I stare
Up at the tree and I see
Your star up there

And this is how I see you
In the snow on Christmas morning
Love and happiness surround you
As you throw your arms up to the sky
I keep this moment by and by

~ Pierre Marchand & Sarah McLachlan

The picture was taken between 1910 and 1915 by an unknown photographer. It belongs to the Library of Congress and is available here. Listen.

A Shift In Perspective

My friend Debi has me thinking about all the things I don't have. And about how grateful I am that I don't.


Thank God I don't have

* a house that takes hours to clean * false teeth * an unemployment check * clothes that I don't like or don't fit * shoes with heels that are too high * the Christmas blues * cars that use too much gas * a television * hospital bills * poor health * addictions * many regrets * more bills than income * false friends * doubts about my faith * crutches * a vacation home * lots of collectibles to dust * diapers to change * a gym membership * fake nails * birds, hamsters or fish in the house * a barn * Ugg boots * a fur coat * a chainsaw *



What about you?

This One Is Me

This picture is of a younger me. Are you laughing now? Stop laughing!

No, of course it isn't me, but it feels like me.

Do you know what I mean?



Do you ever see pictures and you just know that they are of you? Maybe the alternate you. Or the you that you feel like.

Of maybe the picture just captures something in someone else that you recognize in yourself.

You know?



Well. This one is me.


Photo is from an unknown source. I swiped it years ago, before I understood blogging etiquette or ever gave thought to crediting photographers. I am sorry about that. I am. But, I still had to share it with you. If you know anything about the picture, I'd love to hear from you.

Tonight's Chore

Am feeling sleepy
The last thing I want to do is keep putting lights on that tree!
OK, that was the second to last thing.
The last thing I want is to get the tree finished and decide there aren't enough lights.

Have I told you yet about my tree?
It's a marvel. A minor miracle.
I'm not kidding. Or bragging.
It just really is gorgeous.

I learned how to do it back when I was first married.
When I worked for an interior designer in her shop.
And I worked for her sister, who dabbled in everything.
Between the two, I learned quite a lot.

Each year my tree is has a minimum of 500 lights per foot.
So a 7 foot tree would have at least 3,500 lights.
So not kidding.
All white lights, of course.

The main ornaments are hundreds of antique crystal chandelier prisms.
Anybody have any they care to send me?
I'm always looking for more.
I like my tree to drip with them.

This year we bought a shorter tree -
only about 7 foot.
And put it on two concrete blocks so it stands a foot taller.
Genius!

Much fewer lights.
Same dramatic impact.
I wish you could see it.
It makes me very happy.

Happy HoHoHo to you!


Christmas Bokeh by i.anton is used with permission.

Sunday Morning Poetry

The Armadillo

For Robert Lowell

This is the time of year
when almost every night
the frail, illegal fire balloons appear.
Climbing the mountain height,

rising toward a saint
still honored in these parts,
the paper chambers flush and fill with light
that comes and goes, like hearts.

Once up against the sky it's hard
to tell them from the stars—
planets, that is—the tinted ones:
Venus going down, or Mars,

or the pale green one.  With a wind,
they flare and falter, wobble and toss;
but if it's still they steer between
the kite sticks of the Southern Cross,

receding, dwindling, solemnly
and steadily forsaking us,
or, in the downdraft from a peak,
suddenly turning dangerous.

Last night another big one fell.
It splattered like an egg of fire
against the cliff behind the house.
The flame ran down.  We saw the pair

of owls who nest there flying up
and up, their whirling black-and-white
stained bright pink underneath, until
they shrieked up out of sight.

The ancient owls' nest must have burned.
Hastily, all alone,
a glistening armadillo left the scene,
rose-flecked, head down, tail down,

and then a baby rabbit jumped out,
short-eared, to our surprise.
So soft!—a handful of intangible ash
with fixed, ignited eyes.

Too pretty, dreamlike mimicry!
O falling fire and piercing cry
and panic, and a weak mailed fist
clenched ignorant against the sky!

~ Elizabeth Bishop

Happy Sunday, my friends.


The amazing image of a Great Horned Owl in Flight at the Auburn Raptor Center is by Scott Fillmer. You can spot much more of his wonderful work here.

Tonight

the perfect pearl of a moon
against a midnight velvet sky
chili and cornbread for supper
Dad cleaning the kitchen for us
sampling snacks from another country
having something new to wear tomorrow
flowers in a crystal vase, beautiful since Thanksgiving
my new batik tablecloth looking so gorgeous in my house
"Momma, you look really pretty with your hair like that."
my parents coming for dinner after two weeks in Indonesia
wearing the perfect pair of black pants, wide legged and wonderful
new gloves; warm and perfectly matching a previously-owned scarf
Sloane's high little voice singing along as she practices Joy to the World on the piano
overheard at the grocery store: "Can we pweese make a dinderbwed house fo dessurt?"
listening to Jeffrey and Sloane talking about Shakespeare's tragedies when he should be putting her to bed

How I Named My Blog Day

I was visiting Beth tonight and was inspired by this post. I thought I'd play along.


Some time early in 2008 I decided to start a blog. It took me some time to get started because I was searching for the perfect name. I thought about it for a while. A longish while. I really wanted to get it right since I had a feeling it would become a real part of my identity. Was I ever right about that.

Tonight I went in the Sparkle Room and dug out my old journal. Here are some blog names I considered: Daily Joy, Scatter Joy, Giggles and Glitter, A Thing With Feathers, Glass Slipper, Sursum Corda, Once Upon A Time, Cabinet of Curiosities, A Net for Catching Joy...

After nearly four weeks of pondering I wrote this in my journal:

Leap Day 29 February 2008
I am pretty excited thinking about getting started on my blog. I finally have a name. comeandsitbymyfire. Like it? Great, hunh? I knew Brent would help me think of the best name. When I told him about it, he said, "What about your favorite poem?"

Believe it or not, magic bean buyer is already gone, but I think I like come and sit by my fire better anyway. I think I am going to go ahead and set up my account this weekend. I am so excited about this chance for a new creative endeavor. I can hardly wait.

... ... ... ...

Well, I did it. It's almost one in the morning and I am now a blogger. Just writing my profile has been lots of fun. I don't really have expectations of my blog. Right now I am most excited because this is a wonderful way to do some visual journaling. I do love the scratch of a pen on paper, but what I really love is technology. I think of this as Jeffrelynews [family paper newsletter] on steroids. A chance to make lists and to connect with others. I think this is going to be a lot of fun.

I was right. On every count. Come Sit By My Fire is much better than Magic Bean Buyer. Brent does have wonderful ideas. I do use my blog to make lists and connect with others. And, of course, I think blogging is a lot of fun.

What about you? Where did your blog name come from?


If you're curious, here's my first blog post. Poor thing is still commentless.