The Softness of the Christmas Season

Christmascame softly this year. I've been sick with a bad case of pink eye and finally had to give up on all the preparations before the big day. When Christmas morning arrived, SIE came down to the basement where I'd spent the night, and together with kaleidoscope girl and Hapapapa we went up to see the most amazing sight. Santa really had eaten all his cookies, drunk his milk, and given the carrot to the reindeer. It's the first time in as long as I can remember that I didn't get to Christmas Mass. My eyes felt really bad, though, and I think when your eyes or hearing are affected, the rest of your body feels bowed down and crummy. Driving back to LaCenter on the 26th, the roads were wet and rain poured most of the way. There's one spot between LaCenter and the farm that is a curvy stretch of road. One side of the road goes up and the other side of the road drops down, and it's covered on both sides with sheltering trees. This section of road is like a tunnel. The farms were green and the road clear when I went into this "tunnel". When I came out the other side, everything was covered in snow! You drive this section of road, concentrating on the curves and not really realizing that you're driving up an incline. When they tell the weather during news casts they tell it by feet above sea level. So they'll say something like, "Rain in the valley; snow above 4000 ft." My farm, I'm told, is at 1000 ft. It must be La Center is lower! I still felt sick, but Blue and I went for a walk. We went deep into the woods along the main path. There was only one set of footprints. They looked like they were from a big dog. I kept wondering if they could be the coyote we used to see. We haven't seen him since last New Year's Day. So maybe he's going to visit us again this New Years? The snow was wet and I heard on the reports that the rain would melt it all by morning. Waking up today, we beheld a beautiful white morning. Putting my clothes on over my pajamas, we went out to see the world. Snow was falling all around us and kept falling all day. A couple branches snapped from the firs sounding like gun fire. Glad we weren't under them! The snow on the greenhouses slipped down from the roofs sounding like mini avalanches. With snow on the ground you can see deeper into the woods, but nothing was stirring. All the birds in the area were at our feeders. Blue tumbled in the snow certain she would find some critter under each snow-laden twig. Brownie and Molly ran across the field to play. Blue was so-o-o-o wet when we came in!

In Which Miss Ingu Looks for Comments

Ah! It's a delight to read a "comment" and know you're not alone with your thoughts. I know Mr. B & Miss I have 4 faithful followers because they've left their comments on occassion. Thinking that there may be more faithful or even once-in-a-while readers that would like to add a comment, but don't know how...I will now tell you the easy way to do it. First, click on the tiny little word "comments" at the bottom of a blog. A comment page will appear on your screen. It might say: "This page has unsafe material, etc., etc., etc.," Don't worry - it's not unsafe. If this happens, just click the phrase that says, "Open it up anyway." So now you have the comment page and sometimes you will see the comments others have made. There is a box to the right of their comments where you can type your own. Anything you want...even just "hi" so I'll know you're there. Then go down to the spot that says, "Nickname" and put a name or initials in there. Next, copy the crazy, wiggly letters into the box beneath them. (This prevents a zillion computerized scam ads from appearing on the comment page) Last step, click on "Publish Comment"....and there ye be. It's not so hard. I would even say it's one of the easiest computer skills to master!!!

A Mouse House for Every Child!

It's always fun to find out what your kids remember about their growing up years. It's usally the awful stuff of how they were mistreated, abused, and neglected. But occassionally they remember something wonderful. One thing each of my girls remember, and indeed still have, are the "Mouse Houses" I made for them one year. These were little wooden house forms bought at a craft store and then painted and decorated with teeny furniture just right to house any little mouse. We hung them by their beds so that somewhere between stories and sleep they could make believe about the mice in those houses.

Since moving out West, kaleidoscope has wanted me to make some more mouse houses. This Christmas, I finally got it together enough to complete 5 little houses. They are actually larger and more elaborate than the girl's had way long ago. Already all are spoken for: one to Celia, the most enchanting little girl I've ever known, who came to the Christmas Party and went home with it via The Great Chinese Gift Exchange. Another went to SIE, who was with me when we decided which gift to bring to the party. He got first dibs...of course! Another went to a little classmate of SIE's who attended the party, but didn't get the one in the gift pile! How could we not give her one! I feel like one of Santa's elves.

The Day Before the Day Before the Day Before Christmas

Blue and I just returned from a long, wet walk into the woods. This morning was spent wrapping and packing a box for Brother Bear and Sweet Sis. To reward us, I bundled up in two sweat shirts, clogs, and a rain jacket and grabbed my binoculars, ready to head off for the walk. Blue was so excited she almost had a melt-down anxiously skipping around waiting for me to finish dressing. We went down through the pasture and deeper into the woods than usual. This is my favorite time of year to walk there because the grass and blackberry brambles have all died away and you can see where you're putting your feet if you go off the main path. That is important to people who wear Birkenstocks most of the time. Also the deer and other small animals have cut trails through the woods that are just perfect for following. Yesterday we heard an owl. It's the first time I've heard one out here. Just once around noon, then several times toward evening. We went to the part of the woods where we saw an owl last spring - as if yesterday's owl would be sitting on the same branch! But no luck seeing anything other than the beautiful colors of trees against a cloudy sky, bowed down light orange field-grasses, and crystal drops of rain reflecting off fence lines.

It's the time of year to look for antler sheds. I tried really hard to find one last year and it seems almost impossible. There are so many fallen twigs and branches that look like antlers, that it is like finding a four-leaf clover in a field of clover. The thing is, I'm good at finding four-leaf clovers! I think all I have to do is find my first antler shed and then I'll be able to find more. They say the deer shed their antlers after mating and hunting season when their testosterone is lowering. I've been told that the little woodland creatures need calcium so much that the antlers are scarfed up and eaten right away. And I read a great gimick in Field & Stream which says to put cracked corn at the inside angle of a fence corner, so that when the deer bend down to nibble, their antlers will get caught in the fence and drop off. As we walked and looked, it dawned on me that the antlers are sort of like baby teeth. They get loose and could drop off anywhere. They tell you to look for places where the deer might jump over a fence or rub up against a tree. I suddenly realized why I haven't found any...I think there is a tooth deer. Like our tooth fairies, there is probably a tooth deer - most likely a tooth reindeer because they fly, of course - who swoops down and grabs each fallen antler quicker than a wink. I'm not sure what they would leave in return (like the quarters under our pillows), but I will give it some thought.

It was a peaceful way to spend the day before the day before the day before Christmas. Once I realized I couldn't get everything Christmasy done, I was able to relax and appreciate the Season. I even had a chance to meditate a bit on the Nativity and reading Matthew's Gospel. I also looked at a book, B is for Bethlehem, a children's book by Isabel Wilner, illustrated with wonderful scenes by Elisa Kleven. I got it at Powell's Book Store last weekend thinking I'd give it as a gift. But I think SIE is too old for it, and I'm definitely not, so I think I'll keep it for myself!

By the By

Walking today part way down the pasture along the blackberry hedge I glanced over to see if anyone was watching from the carefully crafted arch that leads to Mr. Beachy's house. I'd forgoten to tell you when discussing Mr. Beachy, that he had moved from Ohio to the Northwest around the same time I did! On one of my first walks along the blackberry hedge last year I ran into him. Well, I only saw him for a moment. When he saw me looking, he ducked inside. He's a little shy, you know.

There are several little tunnels that emerge from the blackberry hedge and the grass near these tunnels is carefully groomed, so you know a rabbit or critter of some kind lives in there. One of these tunnels is very well-kept, and that is where I learned that Mr. Beachy had moved with his lovely youngest daughter, Peaches. Yes, Peachy Beachy. On this occassion he was wearing a grey, boiled-wool jacket. As I said, he stepped inside when he saw me seeing him. He stepped just to his left so he could still watch me as I continued down the hill. He's quite elderly now, but still spry. His little daughter dotes on him, making sure his tea is just right and mending his clothes. She was born with a speach impediment and never utters a word. That is perhaps why she has stayed at home with her father all these years. Let me tell you, she is so beautiful; quite slender, and still wears the traditional dress of her homeland. She bows deeply in greeting and her shy smile melts your heart. I have yet to meet her, but have heard all this in just the same way you hear everything from nature. If you're not sure what I mean, you can read about it in The Singing Creek Where the Willows Grow: The Mystical Nature Diary of Opal Whiteley.

Advent's Almost Over

A beautiful sunny day today. It was chilly and rainy and full of morning mist, but the sun kept shining through it all. Even if one side of the sky had dark grey clouds, the sun shone on the fields and trees. Everything sparkled. Is it four days till Christmas Eve? How can that be. I still have gifts to wrap and cards to send and prayers to say! I heard and read something about Christmas that was a new angle for me. A Poor Clare from Spokane wrote in a Christmas letter, and heard on an NPR commentary: People often complain that Christmas is too commercialized and that stores put out their decorations earlier each year. But without the economic factor of Christmas, our religious celebrations would be rather incidental and the holiday not much more than a Lincoln's or Washington's birthday. Since Christmas has the big economic influence, we can have music and lights and occasions of public good will all throughout Advent and on into the Christmas Season. The trick is, to see the meaning of Christ's coming inside all the activity; be aware and conscious of the connection between the symbols all around us. For example, see the lights as symbols of the Light of Christ, hear the music that is uniquely heralding the coming of the Lord, join in the public demonstrations of generosity to the poor. Well, that makes Christmas preparations more fun for me!

Enquiring Minds Want to Know

Who is Mr. Beachy, you ask. I will try to tell you, but you must read between the lines and think in parallel thoughts about such questions as (1) how can someone say one thing and people hear another, (2) why does something resonate with some one and not with another, (3) if you carry a story with you long enough does it take on a life of its own, and (4) will Mr. Beachy and Miss Ingu ever have a romantic relationship? Several years ago a friend of mine told me the story of Mr. Beachy. The story may have morphed in my memory, but this is how I remember it: My friend had moved into a newly built house. He hired a gardener to help him with the landscaping. The gardener (in my imagination) was an elderly Asian man. Despite his strong Asian accent, the gardener and my friend kept up a conversation while they worked. "Where would I find a good auto mechanic?" my friend asked. "Mr. Beachy - Go to Mr. Beachy - He take care of you," the gardener replied. "Mr. Beachy, Rt.125, on corner, no miss." The next day my friend drove up and down Rt. 125 with no luck finding Mr. Beachy's. The next time he worked with the gardener, he asked again about the mechanic. The gardener spoke louder as he tried to explain how to get to Mr. Beachy's. "You no can miss. Mr. Beachy on corner. He take good care of you." Once more my friend followed the directions. Once more he seemed unable to find the repair shop. As he looked at the building on the corner, the building he was sure had to be the one the gardener sent him to, he glanced at the sign and read, "Mitsubishi". Jim R., if you're reading this, feel free to correct the story! I wonder, what if you don't even remember it!

Good Night, Dear Ones

So sorry that Miss Ingu has been unable to blog this week. It seems she was crushed in the pre-Christmas glitter. Very pretty, but materialistic and not very Advent-ish. Hapapapa was out of town and the kaleidoscope girl was tending the sick children, so that meant SIE and Miss I spent a good amount of time playing. It seems SIE is into putting a lot of little things into a basket or bin and then dumping them all over the floor. And it seems Miss I is way too OCD to go to sleep without picking up the toys. That leaves one tired Miss I. Tomorrow, SIE and Miss I and perhaps three dogs will drive to the country and spend a little while at the farm while his parents get the house ready for THE GREAT CHINESE CHRISTMAS EXCHANGE PARTY. It is the most fun Christmas party Miss I has ever attended. There is so much laughter that tears run down faces and everyone's sides hurt. Miss I will be taking one of her newly made Mouse Houses as her gift to exchange. She must write about the Mouse Houses later. Right now she's too, too tired. Good night, dear ones.

A Dream Is A Wish Your Heart Makes

Last night Mr. Beachy had a dream. He dreamt he was writing a letter to St. Nicholas and this is what he wrote:

Dear Saint Nicholas, You don't need to worry about coming this year. There are no poor children left. There are no children being sold into prostitution anymore. You don't have to worry. Everyone has plenty to share. The governments have opened up their boundaries and welcome all who come. Schools are free to young and old alike. The churches have open doors and the bishops dress like shepherds now. They teach us all to pray. Everyone has a piece of land. Children have room to run and time to play. Yes, there's room for everyone. There's fresh water pumped to every house and everyone shares from their gardens. And no one is sick too long because the doctors are free. Yes, FREE! If you were to come today, St. Nick, you would be surprised. Sincerely, Mr. Beachy

Mr. Beachy was very pensive when he woke up today. And then he checked his shoes.

The Lord's Laundromat

Today is the first no-rain day in this part of the Northwest since last Tuesday! That's six days of pouring rain, with the only interruptions when it turned to snow for a few hours. It felt like the washer cycle got stuck on rinse! It was unusual even by Portland standards. It says somewhere in the Bible, even before it was said by Chairman Mao,"After the rain comes the sun" And we are grateful. Some places are still flooded with farms and towns evacuated. They say on tv that some places will have power outages for a few more days. It's interesting how they seem to be making the weather reports especially for the people without power needed to run their tv sets!

Oregon's prized Sitka Spruce blew down. It was 220' tall and 700 years old - the biggest Sitka Spruce in the Nation. There's still 75' of trunk standing. That's a Big Tree! I'm glad I got to see and hug it once on a trip out to the Coast.

The road into La Center from the highway crosses a small bridge with fields on each side that are set aside as a nature habitat. The fields are now basins of water that stretch out like a huge lake. Do not worry. Miss Ingu, Mr. Beachy, and friends are safe and sound. The birds are rejoicing: the trumpeter swans, cackling geese, sandhill cranes, and hawks were making a loud noise unto the Lord today. It was so loud it would have drowned out St. Boniface's organ!