Saturday, December 06, 2008
I love this poem by Henry W. Longfellow--
Out of the bosom of the Air,
Out of the cloud-folds of her garments shaken,
Over the woodlands brown and bare,
Over the harvest-fields forsaken,
Silent, and soft, and slow
Descends the snow.
The rest of the poem is more melancholy so I've left it off.
Christmas preparations are underway - today I'm baking - shortbread, first of all, then chocolate marshmallow roll. We hope to get our tree today at the nursery and decorate it.
Last night was my husband's work party. At the restaurant where it was held, a storyteller recited Dickens "A Christmas Carol," with wonderful voices and expressions. He spoke for nearly an hour - it was beautifully done. I thought how much we've lost in relying on videos and technology when the human voice and literature can provide so much enjoyment.
Although the rain fell and the skies were oh, so grey, there was laughter and warmth inside as cousins, aunties and uncles, grandparents, ...
Late Sunday afternoon Tim and I walked down Oak Bay Avenue, a part of town that has old-world charm and lots of Christmas lights. This is ...
Last Thursday was my last day of classes and Friday I cleaned out my desk. There was a socially distanced morning tea where my colleagues ...
This morning I looked out of my bedroom window at 6:30 am to see the fat gold full moon shining over the Sooke Hills. Each day is a bit lo...