Seasonal sadness

 

There is a task, with sadness, I have to complete in January and that is packing up the Christmas tree and its ornaments. I spent three days dressing the tree and two days removing each bespoke ornament safely wrapped and stored til next December.

I take my time, each loved ornament wrapped in tissue and stored in labelled boxes. Harlequins in one, crystals and antique balls in others, feathered and china birds, those lovingly created by friends in another, and so on. I do not enjoy this job as the glimmer disappears in my home as does the enjoyment of memories but it is time.

Slainte to this December when I unwrap my beloved beauties and smile in remembrance of dear friends, and the fun of finding that one special ornament, when I dress the tree once again.

warmth - haiku

 

huddled together

seeking warmth from dryer steam

doves on pergola 

protected - haiku

water laden snow

now frozen, encases the land,

garden protected

Visit

Early morning before sun rises

tsk tsk tsk sings from the bird feeder.

I open blinds and see Mr. Cardinal

pecking at left over seed, frozen,

but worthwhile to eat.

Soon after the lonesome Dove appears

followed by a lonesome black squirrel.

Two lonesome single creatures

rushing to the feeder before the families arrive.

All day long squirrels and dozens of birds

descend on seeds, cleaning the feeder

and piles left on the ground

leaving an almost clean plate.

As sun descends and night rises

Mr. and Mrs. Cardinal visit accompanied

by the lonesome Dove. They peck.

Those three keeping each other company

until they depart to their own nests.

 

Letters...

Sorting boxes of Christmas decorations to store til next year I opened an unmarked one, forgotten in the stack. It was filled with letters and cards received from dear, very dear, beloved friends. They weren’t printed e-mails, nor typed letters but personally penned in their beautiful cursive script. Most are 20, 30, 40 years old replying to my letters and updating me on their lives. Having read and thought about each one I sadly realized the every sender has left this world. O my heart.

I laughed, sighed, reminisced and cried with our lives documented now lost but not forgotten. In time a particular set will be given to the senders daughter so she will see her mother’s very quirky side. There are so many letters describing her daughters birth and growth that I wish to hold them tight for just a while longer. The daughter will read them and pass them onto her daughter so she will appreciate the grandma she never had a chance to know. Others will be sorted, tied in ribbon and set aside for another day.

Besides the stories, I adore the script. Every one was hand written on un-lined paper with care. Fluid as skate trails on ice. S’s formed as a swans neck; M’s with continuous arch’s; T’s were twisting tree branches. I could easily identify the sender by my address on the envelope as each friends script was unique and I still remember theirs after all these years. I believe their handwriting is a piece of their being. Something to remember them by, and I do, and will as long as life permits.