December 30, 2019
A photo from yesterday evening, looking from the grounds of the beautiful mansion where we have just performed, down toward the ocean. Today is dreary, with a cold wintery mix of precipitation. A perfect day to stay indoors, eschew responsibilities, and catch up on my blog. Heading toward the new year, the next decade.
December 29, 2019
Today I play music with two good friends at a beautifully decorated mansion in a nearby town. I have performed here every holiday season for decades, but was afraid I would miss this year when members of my octet had conflicts as we tried to arrive at a workable date. But a change to this trio and an after-Christmas date allowed a second chance. We play music mostly written by W, the viola da gambist, with C on recorder and me on my trusty mandolin. Friends and family add joy to the audience and we end with a familiar song, singing together as we play. “Should auld acquaintance be forgot…” Our trio, revived after a few years during which our friendship never faltered, makes beautiful music as “we take a cup o’ kindness yet, for auld lang syne.”
December 28, 2019
A close-up of the musicians in the wonderful whole-earth creche, before it folds its tent and is packed away until next year.
December 27, 2019
A surprising contrast of bright plastic and dull nature, seen on yesterday’s walk.
December 26, 2019
A walk in the surprisingly balmy air, dodging puddles on the rain-soaked ground. It’s good to get out, to stretch our legs, to take a deep breath and shake off today’s post-Christmas blues.
week 585 ~ in a new year a new decade
in a new year a new decade
what awaits will we be ready
to take it on to stand steady
as our vision begins to fade
leaves us hesitant plans unmade
still gather on the horizon
linger though currently undone
we prop them up with brave pizzazz
and hopeful cross our fingers as
time walks toward the setting sun
December 25, 2019
We are up earlier than folks without children anticipating stockings of presents should be. And drive south bearing food, to take P’s dad to his early church service followed by a brunch of Christmas strata and sticky buns. It is peaceful sitting in the pew, listening to biblical Christmas readings, singing familiar hymns. Calls from my children and presents-to-open await us back home and the day ends quietly with good cheer, mixed with inevitable nostalgia. Such are Christmases present.
