Christmas lights the prairie 12-06-08
I opened my eyes this Saturday morning early, (--habit!), in the dark and lay there, with a couple of kitties purring beside me, and thought how my spirit was lifted Thursday night, driving home from ball games in Hebron, by seeing all the Christmas lights on houses…and how great it felt to sit with Mother last evening to read the print-outs of Kim's and Patrick's week of blog entries, and how gorgeous the decorations in Feathered Nest appeared when I stopped in there to hunt for a couple of items to add to a box of goodies to send them, and how bright the Belleville street lights shone against the black night…and I thought of how we needed to bring Christmas to the farm again, in lights…About that time, I noticed the sunrise colors striping the sky just out the window. Intense. I got up to look out the east windows…
…and thought how pale our attempts at electrically lighting the darkness seem, compared to the spectacle every morning in the east.
I stayed up, puttering around, feeding the critters, warming some coffee, and I asked Steve whether we could get the tree this morning. He didn’t want to “cut one” but planned to drive out to Kasl’s and bring a cut tree home this morning.
Later, he brought in the tree, but just wanted to add water to the pan today and decorate tomorrow. (His back was bothering...) So, I put the plastic under the pan and filled it with water. The sweet-smelling tree looked sort of strangled, still in its net webbing, although it had managed to snap out a branch or two, regardless.
Although the animals sniffed around the water pan to see if they could sip the pine nectar and contract an expensive kidney infection, they found themselves barred by wads of white plastic, so they weren’t too impressed.
I decided to take a nap, too…and woke to the sounds of the farmer hanging lights above the deck.
A while later, as I typed Kim an email about watching for the arrival of the box, I noticed the late afternoon sunlight washing the meadow gold and once again striping the sky with pink. I marveled how both sides of the daylight had spun out in so lovely a progression of colorful veils.
As the sky darkened, our roof lights came on. Even the still strangling Christmas tree seemed encouraged.
So, the day winds down. We didn’t finish everything…anything?...but we kicked our apathetic Christmas spirit into gear a little more.
…and thought how pale our attempts at electrically lighting the darkness seem, compared to the spectacle every morning in the east.
I stayed up, puttering around, feeding the critters, warming some coffee, and I asked Steve whether we could get the tree this morning. He didn’t want to “cut one” but planned to drive out to Kasl’s and bring a cut tree home this morning.
Later, he brought in the tree, but just wanted to add water to the pan today and decorate tomorrow. (His back was bothering...) So, I put the plastic under the pan and filled it with water. The sweet-smelling tree looked sort of strangled, still in its net webbing, although it had managed to snap out a branch or two, regardless.
Although the animals sniffed around the water pan to see if they could sip the pine nectar and contract an expensive kidney infection, they found themselves barred by wads of white plastic, so they weren’t too impressed.
I decided to take a nap, too…and woke to the sounds of the farmer hanging lights above the deck.
A while later, as I typed Kim an email about watching for the arrival of the box, I noticed the late afternoon sunlight washing the meadow gold and once again striping the sky with pink. I marveled how both sides of the daylight had spun out in so lovely a progression of colorful veils.
As the sky darkened, our roof lights came on. Even the still strangling Christmas tree seemed encouraged.
So, the day winds down. We didn’t finish everything…anything?...but we kicked our apathetic Christmas spirit into gear a little more.
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