My Annual Christmas Message to Family and Friends.
I sit at my computer, staring at a blank screen, not knowing what to write. I feel like I am Christmased out with inspiring stories and witty essays to share. Inspiration seems to have gone on vacation, and I sit here wondering what to say. Usually by this time of year, something has touched my heart, and my writing comes effortlessly. This year- I struggle to find a creative thought. So…. what am I going to write about Christmas this year?
I’d like to say how much I am looking forward to Christmas the way I did as a child and as a mother of two little boys, but I’m not. There is so much for a child to look forward to with all of the holiday excitement in the air. I remember childhood Christmases, picturing my family gathered around our dining room table for our family dinner. I see my friends and me racing up and down the Winnona Drive sidewalk on new roller skates or bikes, and cradling our new baby dolls. As we get older, we model sweaters and new outfits for each other, and listen to our LP records on the hi-fi set in our den. I watch my mother’s delight upon opening Daddy’s gift- the one Molly and I were given the assignment on Christmas Eve to go out and buy for him to give to her. I see my own children’s faces light up in glee on Christmas morning as they dump their stockings to find all kinds of treasures, and then tear open their gifts that they had circled in the Sears Christmas catalog. I watch all of this from a distance, and I remember.
Yes, my memories of Christmas Day are warm and fuzzy.
Christmas is certainly different now. While I celebrate Christmas with my annual Christmas Cookie Baking Day early in December, once it is over, our home is quiet for the rest of the season. There’s not much to anticipate. We get together with a small group during the holidays for our annual Christmas lasagna dinner, and some years we travel during the season. But Christmas Day is usually a home-alone, ho-hum kind of day. With my sons living on opposite sides of the country, it’s very rare for them to be with me at Christmas. I miss those family Christmases.
I don’t want to sound negative about Christmas, because I’m not. I know my memories are certainly distorted as I gaze through the mist into my past. As surely as I, along with my boys, have grown up and changed, my celebration of Christmas has also changed. I think about the spiritual nature of Christmas more than I did as a child, and Santa Claus and receiving gifts aren’t important to me the way they were when I was a little girl, or when Wade and Brian were kids. However, Christmas Eve continues to be magical and mystical. It has taken a prominent place in my celebration, as I sit in the sanctuary at church and let the music, candlelight, and scripture of the holy night wash over me. While it is a beautiful narrative, the nativity story doesn’t hold the same appeal to me as it once did, as I understand that the Biblical account of the night of Christ’s birth probably isn’t totally factual, and the event may not have been exactly as it is portrayed in the Bible story. However, the significance of Jesus’ entry into this world and the impact of his life and ministry is overwhelming to me as I celebrate his birth.
I guess what I am saying this year is that being excited about Christmas Day may not be as important as I thought. Childhood Christmases are only a memory, and the reality is that life changes as the years pass. Maybe I’m supposed to approach Christmas Day differently; perhaps it’s more important for me to simply remember Christmases past as I embrace this Christmas. Christmas 2011 has something unique to offer as I open my heart to the possibilities.
My blank sheet of paper is finally filled with my Christmas message for this year. My wish for my readers is a Christmas filled with the love of family and friends, the warmth of peace and joy, the tastes and sounds of yummy food and happy laughter - all wrapped up in wonderful Christmas memories for future Christmases.
Showing posts with label childhood memories. Show all posts
Showing posts with label childhood memories. Show all posts
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
Sunday, September 5, 2010
As Summer Comes to an End.....
It’s finally happening. Summertime is releasing her hot and humid grip on rural Georgia. And not a minute too soon – I was becoming very weary of endless days in the high 90s, nights that felt more like Florida than Georgia, and a monthly electric bill that made my heart stop momentarily when I opened it.
The skies are changing to that beautiful autumn blue that doesn't have an adequate word to describe it. It reminds me of the Wedgwood china that I loved as a young girl, and the term “Carolina Blue” comes to mind, even though it’s a Georgia sky! Wispy, cotton candy clouds are now gracing the azure dome, replacing the puffy animal shaped clouds that gather together in the summertime to send us our summer thundershowers.
The breeze carries the fragrance of autumn, enticing the senses with the fragrance of kudzu blossoms and cut hay. While the days are still warm, the air holds a hint of autumn coolness, refreshing the face and neck during long walks in the countryside. The heaviness of summer air is gone; the weight has been lifted.
Even the okra is beginning to show the weariness of summer. While it loves the hot sultry days, and produces in abandon when the other vegetables have given up for the season, it is showing signs that it is tired of summer, too. The pods are beginning to curl and have funny little bumps on them, and I don’t have to pick twice a day to keep them from growing too fast and too tough. It continues to bloom, and the butterflies love the delicious butter-colored blossoms, but its days for this season will soon come to an end.
It won’t be long until the bright colors of Fall will replace the rich greens of Summer. Goldenrod will grace the fields, delicate fall wild flowers will replace summer daisy faces, and an entire wild garden of color will replace those of summertime. Leaves will begin to drift to earth, pecans will drop from the trees, and earth will prepare herself for the cold months of rest.
It has been a wonderful summer, despite the heat. Our garden produced an abundance of produce; our freezer is full, and our pantry shelves are sagging from the weight of canned goods. I loved the summer, but I am ready to shift gears and focus on something other than vegetables, fruit, and herbs for awhile. I welcome the Fall breezes and bright sky, and the coming days of winter hibernation.
Goodbye, Summer. I’ll see you again next year, and I’ll be ready to welcome you with anticipation and joy!
The skies are changing to that beautiful autumn blue that doesn't have an adequate word to describe it. It reminds me of the Wedgwood china that I loved as a young girl, and the term “Carolina Blue” comes to mind, even though it’s a Georgia sky! Wispy, cotton candy clouds are now gracing the azure dome, replacing the puffy animal shaped clouds that gather together in the summertime to send us our summer thundershowers.
The breeze carries the fragrance of autumn, enticing the senses with the fragrance of kudzu blossoms and cut hay. While the days are still warm, the air holds a hint of autumn coolness, refreshing the face and neck during long walks in the countryside. The heaviness of summer air is gone; the weight has been lifted.
Even the okra is beginning to show the weariness of summer. While it loves the hot sultry days, and produces in abandon when the other vegetables have given up for the season, it is showing signs that it is tired of summer, too. The pods are beginning to curl and have funny little bumps on them, and I don’t have to pick twice a day to keep them from growing too fast and too tough. It continues to bloom, and the butterflies love the delicious butter-colored blossoms, but its days for this season will soon come to an end.
It won’t be long until the bright colors of Fall will replace the rich greens of Summer. Goldenrod will grace the fields, delicate fall wild flowers will replace summer daisy faces, and an entire wild garden of color will replace those of summertime. Leaves will begin to drift to earth, pecans will drop from the trees, and earth will prepare herself for the cold months of rest.
It has been a wonderful summer, despite the heat. Our garden produced an abundance of produce; our freezer is full, and our pantry shelves are sagging from the weight of canned goods. I loved the summer, but I am ready to shift gears and focus on something other than vegetables, fruit, and herbs for awhile. I welcome the Fall breezes and bright sky, and the coming days of winter hibernation.
Goodbye, Summer. I’ll see you again next year, and I’ll be ready to welcome you with anticipation and joy!
Saturday, May 2, 2009
Four-Leaf Clovers
Today while Diamond and I were out walking down one of our country roads, I glanced down at the ground to see a four-leaf clover smiling up at us. As I leaned down to pick it, my eyes spotted five more right there in the same clover patch.
This is nothing new for me. Diamond is used to pausing in our walks whenever we pass a clover patch, so that I can check to see if there are any four-leaf ones. Usually, I spot at least one while on our walks; today was a windfall.
I don’t know if they bring me good luck or not. The three I found yesterday didn’t help me any in the Powerball game last night. My lucky numbers weren’t lucky at all. I also haven’t found a job yet, although I have to admit I don’t consider this a lack of luck at this point in time. But there is something about finding a four-leaf clover that makes me feel happy, and as I felt the cool breeze on my neck and the sun on my face today and looked up at the crystal blue sky, I knew that I was much more than lucky.
Four-leaf clovers have been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. Here is an excerpt from my book about a day in a little girl’s life watching over her clover patch. As I remember this day from my childhood, I think about yesterday’s walk when I watched the county mower making its way down the shoulder of one of our roads. I had the same feeling as I did as a child, grieving over all the four-leaf clovers that were being chopped up!
Clovers and Dandelions
Our front yard on Winnona Drive was not a landscaper’s dream. While my mother had beautiful flower gardens adorning the front of the house, the lawn would probably rank in the “desperately needs improvement” category. Our lawn did have grass, but not the smooth carpet as some or our neighbors’ yards. I don’t know if this was due to my dad’s seemingly lack of concern over its appearance, whether he was simply too busy to devote much time to cultivating a beautiful lawn, or if perhaps there was another reason.
I didn’t help matters much in the way our yard looked. What was my involvement in this wonderful world that was our front yard? I loved flowers, not only those that my mother so painstakingly planted and cared for, but clovers and dandelions were my all-time favorites. I could sit for hours in a clover patch searching for four leaf clovers and making clover blossom chains, which would become my jewelry of necklaces, bracelets, anklets, and belts. These items of jewelry were also special gifts for my mother to wear, and they accented beautifully her housedress and apron she always wore while doing her housework. After the blossoms withered and dried out and were no longer lovely pieces of art, I would carefully pluck the brown blossom remnants and broadcast clover seeds across the lawn in hopes of enlarging my beloved clover patch.
I also encouraged the growth of dandelions. I would watch the yellow dandelion blossoms and guard them until they transformed to white beards of fluff. Many wishes were made as I picked the dandelions to blow on them, sending their seeds on the wind of my breath across the yard. I can even remember picking dandelions from other yards and taking them home with me to make my wish!
I sat on the front steps of my house, crying my heart out while watching my father walking behind the old push mower, pushing and pulling it across my clover patch, chopping all the four leaf clovers I hadn’t found yet, and crushing all the little white flowers and yellow dandelion blossoms.
Now, so many years later, as I view this picture from the album of my memories, I wonder if our front yard was indeed the victim of a man who didn’t seem to be concerned with its appearance. I choose to believe that it was instead a world of wonder for a little girl, and if there was a victim, it was a father who couldn’t bear the tears of his child who was sitting on the steps watching the destruction of her beloved clovers and dandelions.
This is nothing new for me. Diamond is used to pausing in our walks whenever we pass a clover patch, so that I can check to see if there are any four-leaf ones. Usually, I spot at least one while on our walks; today was a windfall.
I don’t know if they bring me good luck or not. The three I found yesterday didn’t help me any in the Powerball game last night. My lucky numbers weren’t lucky at all. I also haven’t found a job yet, although I have to admit I don’t consider this a lack of luck at this point in time. But there is something about finding a four-leaf clover that makes me feel happy, and as I felt the cool breeze on my neck and the sun on my face today and looked up at the crystal blue sky, I knew that I was much more than lucky.
Four-leaf clovers have been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. Here is an excerpt from my book about a day in a little girl’s life watching over her clover patch. As I remember this day from my childhood, I think about yesterday’s walk when I watched the county mower making its way down the shoulder of one of our roads. I had the same feeling as I did as a child, grieving over all the four-leaf clovers that were being chopped up!
Clovers and Dandelions
Our front yard on Winnona Drive was not a landscaper’s dream. While my mother had beautiful flower gardens adorning the front of the house, the lawn would probably rank in the “desperately needs improvement” category. Our lawn did have grass, but not the smooth carpet as some or our neighbors’ yards. I don’t know if this was due to my dad’s seemingly lack of concern over its appearance, whether he was simply too busy to devote much time to cultivating a beautiful lawn, or if perhaps there was another reason.
I didn’t help matters much in the way our yard looked. What was my involvement in this wonderful world that was our front yard? I loved flowers, not only those that my mother so painstakingly planted and cared for, but clovers and dandelions were my all-time favorites. I could sit for hours in a clover patch searching for four leaf clovers and making clover blossom chains, which would become my jewelry of necklaces, bracelets, anklets, and belts. These items of jewelry were also special gifts for my mother to wear, and they accented beautifully her housedress and apron she always wore while doing her housework. After the blossoms withered and dried out and were no longer lovely pieces of art, I would carefully pluck the brown blossom remnants and broadcast clover seeds across the lawn in hopes of enlarging my beloved clover patch.
I also encouraged the growth of dandelions. I would watch the yellow dandelion blossoms and guard them until they transformed to white beards of fluff. Many wishes were made as I picked the dandelions to blow on them, sending their seeds on the wind of my breath across the yard. I can even remember picking dandelions from other yards and taking them home with me to make my wish!
I sat on the front steps of my house, crying my heart out while watching my father walking behind the old push mower, pushing and pulling it across my clover patch, chopping all the four leaf clovers I hadn’t found yet, and crushing all the little white flowers and yellow dandelion blossoms.
Now, so many years later, as I view this picture from the album of my memories, I wonder if our front yard was indeed the victim of a man who didn’t seem to be concerned with its appearance. I choose to believe that it was instead a world of wonder for a little girl, and if there was a victim, it was a father who couldn’t bear the tears of his child who was sitting on the steps watching the destruction of her beloved clovers and dandelions.
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