The 12 Boxes of Christmas

Yep, twelve.  Twelve boxes of Christmas stuff that I hauled out of the basement today, including the ginormous old tree, along with enough lights to put the Andromeda Galaxy to shame.  Or at least, a Ford Galaxy.

Stuff.  'Tis the season for stuff.  The orgy of consumption that begins right after Halloween these days is in full swing.  As a dedicated neo-Luddite and amateur Scrooge, I am bearing up remarkably well, in my opinion, and look forward to the stillness of January with (sweet) relish.  I am hoping for a couple pair of new Carhartt pants and/or overalls, and that's all, though Santa may bring me a bicycle to replace the one that got stolen a couple years ago.  I miss riding bikes with Belle.

The Angle is slipping into Winter with its usual grace.  One of our eight sycamores still has some leaves, but the rest are naked.  A gift of about ten pounds of Spanish moss from my in-laws is well-timed, since I can now drape it over the cypresses and other trees unimpeded.  Work on the garden has slowed, but I hope to put in the topsoil soon, followed in January by the cow manure, and give it a few months to settle before Spring planting season.  The chickens are fat on leftovers... but there have been no eggs, not yet.  One good thing:  the neighbors know about our flock, and are cool with it, even interested.  I'll have to bring them some eggs, if we ever have any.

Ten pages and a real, live, working plot are new fruits of my autumn artistic endeavors.  I hope to finish Chapter 1 this month, and post it to my companion blog.  It's a new story, told with a different voice than I am used to, and it may not become anything, but I am having fun with it; it only feels a little like work.

These days, my thoughts turn to my friends, those I've kept in touch with and those I haven't.  I miss them all the time.  I hope they know I am with them in spirit, even as I withdraw further and further from our society in decline.  We're all getting long in the tooth, and though there are hopefully decades more to come, I need to work to maintain the ties that are still strong, mend those that are fraying, and in some cases, repair those that have (not a few by my own actions) broken altogether.  To those friends reading this:  I sincerely hope you and yours are well.  I hope to still call you friend as the tale of our years goes on and on, down from the point where we began knowing one another. 

Wassail, friends, and have a merry Yuletide season. -- C.C.