This one has to do with light, and came to mind yesterday late afternoon when I was doing my anti-diabetes walk. The light cast by the slanting sun just before it slips beneath the horizon is heart-wrenchingly beautiful. Shadows are long and navy-blue, the dried-up oak leaves still clinging to their branches turn golden and the church windows are lit up like rare jewels. One of my sharpest memories is this very light on the snow in northern New England, and its coming through the west windows of the farm house to turn my non-descript livingroom into Midas' parlor. Then it meant Christmas, and cookies, and presents, and the fragrance of balsam.
The specific memory, however, is when we had moved from our rented house in the middle of 100 acres into our own farmhouse, on 5 acres. Already in 1966, land values were climbing rapidly in that beautiful state. We were happy to be in our own house (the adults were, at least), but we all had had plans to go out to cut down our own tree from that 100 acres, and now all we had was alfalfa pastures. Our landlord had decided to move back into his house when we left, and had a fiancee. They invited the family to come out the weekend before Christmas and find a tree to cut on their property, and then stop for hot cocoa. It was a wonderful time, children being 5, 7 1/2, and 10 years old and just the right ages for this adventure. We found the perfect tree, which, when cut, completely enveloped DB as he carried it through the deep snow back to our car. He made the tree "talk" to our youngest as we trudged, and even though Chard KNEW it was his dad doing the talking, he began to fall under its spell. This prompted the older two to tease him unmercifully, but we were all laughing when we finally had the tree tied to the car and knocked on Charlie's door. His lovely lady invited us in to the warm kitchen, heated by the old wood stove I had loved cooking on when we lived there. And the moment I'll never forget: the light, the fragrance, the laughter, the piercing happiness, and when Margaret threw a handful of fresh balsam needles onto the wood stove and the pungent aroma filled the air. That vignette is forever etched in my mind, and I can call it up with all of its sensory loveliness any time, but especially on a late December afternoon when the sun is about to set. A postscript: when we got this 9-foot white pine beauty home and into its stand, it reached out to the middle of the room. In order to get around it, we had to trim some of the back branches and it still took up most of the living space. But it was gorgeous!
I cleaned off my desk today! I'll accept any and all accolades. Before I began the purging and filing, I couldn't even see the tops of the piles, never mind the top of the desk. See what an almost full day in my office can do for me? The only interruption was a 1 hour meeting downtown; the rest of the day was for me to find all the things I've been missing, plus a few I didn't know were missing. And a couple things that should have been done last week. Oh well!
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