CHRISTMAS SEASON THE WAY IT SHOULD BE

I used to count myself amongst the Christmas season-weary, getting to the eve of December 24th feeling as if life had been almost fully extracted from my body. If it hadn’t been for a strong soul, I might have succumbed. Christmas Day was always difficult because it demanded social protocols and good neighborliness, at a time when all I wanted to do was nod-off at hearthside, with the crackling cedar logs lulling me to a numbing salvation from the present rigors of unspecified, often reckless festivities.

We are very much different as a family these days, and there is a lot of business going on right up to the final moments of Christmas Eve. But we are kinder to one another, and insist on creature comforts at the end of the day, versus a pile of presents burdening the air space below the tree limbs. With our boys long past the Christmas buzz, associated with the belief in magical chimney entrances, and naughty-or-nice lists being kept by any one but us, the season has become as quiet and gentle as I have long desired. The hustle and bustle of business, as a norm these days, is quite different than four folks running amuck looking for Christmas presents that will amaze the recipient. We reward ourselves now with good food and beverage, and the comfort of being together to celebrate the good cheer of the rolling year.

It’s why I spend so much time looking out this window here at Birch Hollow, watching out over The Bog, as it fills-in with snow, and looks so beautiful in the bright sunlight. I realize how much time I’ve wasted pursuing those straight furrows that David Grayson recognized as all-consuming, in his book “Adventures in Contentment.” He realized, one day, after having taken so much pride in these perfect rows, that he had at the same time, ignored the precious realities of each day, and the grand countryside he had traded for his former city life. He had, you see, escaped the city stresses, for the passive embrace of the country, yet he hadn’t lost his urban habits. He seldom looked up to see his wonderland unfolding, pasture upon pasture, hillside against hillside.....that blue sky that touches universality!

I spent most of my life like David Grayson because I thought it was the way one had to proceed in order to be successful.

I haven’t create a straight furrow in the last decade, and I’m pleased to say it has allowed me so much more time for appreciation of all that dwells contented in the realm of imperfection.