Tuesday, December 28, 2021

The Between Days


Here we are again, poised at the heart of the liminal interlude bookended every year by the Winter Solstice and a shiny new year only a few days away. These winter days are a precious (and much needed) breathing spell between the two holidays, and I like to think of them as the "between days". It seems as though 2021 just got here, but we are bidding it farewell and contemplating 2022 with all its unknown possibilities, adventures, trials and ordeals.  A few more adventures next year, and fewer ordeals, please.

Holiday shopping (what little there was of it) was wrapped and tucked under the little tree in good time this year.  A thousand and one cookies were made, and tins of homemade baking were delivered around the village. There was a splendid festive meal on December 25th, and the leftovers were sent home with dinner guests, the opening gambit in our usual Boxing Day doings. Gift bags, ribbons and wrapping have already been folded and put away for another time, and the silken rustle of the tissue as it was smoothed and pleated into neat squares was pleasing to the ear.

Now there is stillness in the little blue house, and after days of toing and froing, there is time for rest and reflection. Who knows what Beau and I will be doing on New Year's eve? With COVID numbers rising, there is a fair possibility that we will be home by ourselves and safely sequestered with candles, mugs of cider and gingerbread.

I made a lovely big pot of Bigelow's Constant Comment tea this morning, and the kitchen was filled with the fragrance of oranges and sweet spice. Snow sparkled through the south facing window, and the kitchen was filled with silvery dancing light. As we leaned against the counter and waited for the kettle to sing, it seemed to Beau and I that the most beautiful part of the holiday this year was the clamor and bustle in the kitchen as two grandsons and I put a fine seafood dinner together. There was laughter around the old oak table as we ate and endless cups of tea afterward, an eloquent silence in the garden at nightfall as light snow fell. We thought of my departed soulmate (the boys' beloved papa), and we sent him our love. Blessed be.

4 comments:

Tabor said...

You are most certainly blessed and you can live in the moment better than most.

Kiki said...

Utter beauty and real love are wrapped up in this wonderful post. Blessed be you all. And yes, les trials and more adventures in 2022.... Please!

Karen said...

Much love and peace to you and Beau - and his Papa xoxoxo I wish a love filled New Year to you and yours . . .

Caroline Ouellette said...

New Years Eve will be very quiet here on the Farm as well. Cows, horses and chickens happily enjoying this warm break in the cold season but lack of snow means no sleigh ride, sigh. Instead, I shall enjoy a cup of tea by the fire with a good book and a kitten (or two) on my lap. Truly enjoyed reading this post, thank you for sharing such a beautiful magical glimpse of your life. Sending warm hug with love from my home to yours.