Have Yourself a Merry

Post 84

Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmastime

This has been a tough early winter, only made more intense by my mother's having shattered her hip and gotten a hip replacement. Today my husband and I, our daughter and my father celebrated Christmas in my mom's room in a rehab hospital. And we had a good time. I packed a picnic with every one's favorite foods and  there were lots pf presents. We left when my mother started nodding off.

Because of my mom's health I went up to New York (where I grew up,) during the glittery, busy week before Christmas. And this meant that when my mom did not need me, I got to wander lit-up New York.

When I was younger I used to tell people about New York's pearly night sky, how sometimes it reflected back mauve or puce, cerise or alpine green as weather and pollution dictated. No non-New Yorker ever believed me, they were sure it was just a romantic exaggeration. But I love New York and know that nothing about it needs exaggeration. I did not add colored filters to these night photographs. Reality is enough.

Forgive me thou for the above Park Ave. glitter, Picasa added the twinkle before I figured out how to turn it off.

So--time for a Christmas evening at Tiffany's.

And at the Frick

And then throughout the town.

 And of course the Nymph of the Plaza

So Merry Christmas and God bless us, everyone.  One of the beauties of Christmas is that it is as if there is current in the atmosphere that helps us to connect to what is most benevolent, generous and real within us.. It is as if there is a cosmic slip-stream to join with that can help bring out what is best within us.We join together to celebrate it, and it brings comfort and joy.

Taking Account

Post 83

What follows isn't always easy.

Winter has come quick and hard.

Which I can spin as a good corrective to the main weakness of the garden this last summer. For now, in the advent of bleak midwinter, is a good time to take account.

What did not work in the garden this year; An excess of zinnias. I was swayed by a large, cheap flat of multicolored zinnias at the farmstand. And instead of giving the extras away as I should have, I stuck small clumps of them in places they didn't belong, where they were too tall or too multicolored  to work. And then, of course, once I realized they didn't work, they were too big and full for me to have the heart to yank them out. 

To pull off the wild garden, it can't be too wild.  Next year no tempting flats of zinnias for me. I'm going to start my own instead, and just one variety, my favorite.: Queen Red Lime. That way they will unify the garden . A garden flourishes thanks to, not only the gardener's creativity, but also their self-criticism. 

Is it really so icky out or am I just grouchy from a cold that wouldn't go away?  I'm feeling the low-energy imposture blues. Time to stop writing before the self-criticism devolves in to mawk.

Thou I will wonder, does the water in a fire hydrent freeze like all the water around it, or is there some means to keep it liquid?  As you may guess, I never had physics in High School, just chemistry and lots of biology. And I often feel the want of it. My husband says it has to do with pressure.