o christmas tree.
a short accounting of how i am making it through December.
Having a Christmas tree is the only way I’ll make it through December is a thing I recently said to James, the person I married, after he suggested that perhaps Christmas trees make his eyes itchy. My survival being paramount, we got a tree, as we always do, from the cheerful crew down from Vermont that sets up a small forest of freshly cut firs beside the church with a long-ago-toppled steeple.
Other ways I’m getting through December:
The days are so short in December that I hardly have enough time to spin circles and settle into a good writing spot before the sun goes down. Once that happens, there’s no choice but to change directly into pajamas and begin playing soft Christmas music in an earnest attempt to maintain a bit of peace in the hours between the time my children return home from school and are finally nestled all snug in their beds. Leaning into the darkness is what I’m suggesting and if you haven’t read it yet, I do heartily recommend Katherine May’s book on the subject which I thought I might not like and ended up loving very much.
(If you are in the market for pajamas suitable for changing into at 4:30 pm, these are my favorites. I have two pairs, one with a hole in the knee that I just patched and so now I love them more. If you are in the market for not terrible Christmas music, the 1990 A Windham Hill Christmas is great.)
I have now read A Child’s Christmas in Wales to my youngest child three times. One might assume that the lyrical lilting language of Dylan Thomas would be too much for a four-year-old, but instead it seems to be exactly right. Ours is a copy of the 1986 edition illustrated by Trina Schart Hyman which is worth sleuthing for in used book stores and is also available new. No question, the 1987 film, which is essentially a read-aloud of the book, is my all-time favorite Christmas movie.