‘Twas the week before Christmas, and all through the land,
traditions danced o’er winter landscapes so grand …
Early morning … Lingering tufts of fog gripping hills toward
the west. In the easterly sky, daybreak’s first light cascading
like water down foothills. Pale shafts of sunlight roll down the
vale, settle on the mantle of fog in the valley below.
‘Twas the week before Christmas, and all through the land, traditions danced o’er winter landscapes so grand …
Early morning … Lingering tufts of fog gripping hills toward the west. In the easterly sky, daybreak’s first light cascading like water down foothills. Pale shafts of sunlight roll down the vale, settle on the mantle of fog in the valley below.
Clinging hopelessly to tree limbs, lonely leaves of crimson and bronze, soon joining others like them heaped in wet, decaying clumps along sidewalks and lanes. Noble evergreens rising regally from the fragrant earth in this, their season, while lesser trees reach barren branches toward the frosty sky.
Small creatures bounding over grass, racing across the road, swiftly going about their business of morning. Young deer grazing under a tree, unaffected by my nearness. Walking to the mailbox in the fog and the frost, stamping chilly, slippered feet on the paving stones, leaving a small gift in the postal box – a remembrance for one who served us steadfastly this year.
Late morning brightens, gossamer mists soften and melt, steam rising from streets. Roadways glisten, lighting pathways with gleaming twinkles of radiance. Like snow …
Afternoon hastens … Wintry breezes blowing, mussing hair, scarves looped ’round necks of shoppers hurrying by … Red kettles on street corners, at shopping malls, reminders that among us live those who daily endure, essential needs going unmet. Christmas … sharing with others what we are able to give.
Calling out greetings, meeting old friends, neighbors with hugs in the entry of a crowded shop. Catching up … inquiring after family and loved ones both here and afar. Well wishes to all as we gather up final provisions we soon will require for cooking, baking, decorating, commemorating Christmas …
Cozy get-togethers sharing cups of coffee, tea. Holiday remembrances exchanged; celebrating the birth of new babies, mourning loved ones that were lost; another year of friendships, relationships, gone rushing by.
Nature … brought indoors for Christmas, adorning our homes … brilliant red bursts of berries from bushes of pyracantha and holly … luminous fruits of winter, more beautiful than any ornament man-made: purple fig, crimson pomegranate, burnt orange persimmon. Whole nuts richly enrobed in their shells: rough walnuts, woody almonds, smooth pecans, coarse and bumpy Brazils. And the iconic plants of Christmas … festive poinsettias, scarlet to pearly pink to snowiest white, lush leaves of Christmas green, virtual feasts for the eyes.
Scents of the season wafting about us, surrounding us with the perfumes of Christmas … fresh pine boughs heaped at doorways and mantels, cookies and candies fragrant with mace, cinnamon, allspice. Hot chocolate, spiced cider, mulled wine find our noses, drawing us into their warmth.
Trimming the tree, making lists, gifts to wrap, visits with friends, holiday celebrations marked on the calendar.
Greeting card wishes from across the land arriving in earnest now. Wishes bestowed upon us by those we love; wishes for continued precious freedom, good health, prosperity, long life, peace on earth, goodwill to all.
Twelve earthly angels on a cold wintry night singing beloved carols of Christmas. Young voices resonating in perfect harmony, pleased parents watching proudly, smilingly, from the sidelines. The Gilroy High School Chamber Singers … bringing the blessings of Christmas to all assembled at that holiday gathering, that chilly winter’s night. Dear songs … some merry, others poignantly beautiful … beholding this reverence to Christmas whilst our eyes filled with tears, tender memories rising within us. Swallowing around lumps in our throats … thankful for this youthful choir carrying good tidings with them to all the Christmases yet to be.
Into night … Christmas lights glowing, reflected, softly, in frosty windows; families gathered inside around cheery hearths, fires burning companionably, warming small hands and feet. Cherished stories are read, then read again. Children’s happy voices, wishes for Christmas shining in their bright eyes, anticipating old St. Nick.
Now, the last candles of Christmas burning low in the windows, gathering up sleepy babies, bound for home and sugarplum dreams of Christmas Eve. Stepping outside onto the misty porch, street lights haloed in fog, scanning the night sky above. Soft rain moistening brows and eyelashes, holding tiny hands tightly, searching for Santa and eight tiny reindeer … gazing at the Night-before-Christmas sky through the eyes of a child.
Seeking rest from the busy doings of preparing for Christmas, under a comforting quilt, sliding tired feet into slippers while outside the fog thickens, becomes dense, diffusing, finally shutting out the lights of the valley below.
And as evening mists rise, settling in the hollows of the hills and valleys, the church bells of Christmas are ringing, reminders of the babe in the manger, the quiet wonder of His birth, the miracle that is Christmas in South Valley and everywhere.
Wishing you all of the peace, joy and quiet miracles of this holiday season.
