And
now the past and the present have met for sure. Mike and I drove into the farm
today. About halfway up the Gilbert Grade, we encountered icy snow floor. Mike
drove slowly and we didn’t slip. We wended our way along the snow-covered
country roads on top, eventually coming to our lane which, to our relief, wasn’t
drifted. Mike gave the pick-up plenty of gas and we came right up the drive.
“Getting
in” was the first hurdle of our winter visit. Next, we turned on the water and
listened carefully. Silence. Second hurdle – check. Now to unload the Dakota
and unpack, except I’ve gotten wise on that. At Christmas we work out of the
crates, so with a bit of
reshuffling when it’s time to leave, the crates are ready.
And
then we had a plethora of errands, big and small – bring in wood, light fire,
change clocks to standard time, check all faucets and toilets, etc. Well, enough
of that. Now I’m settled in the very place where Ina lived and worked in 1933,
except that I have the modern amenities.
Back
in our imaginary 1933, Shirley Anne came home from school to discover her
mother and father waiting for her. [No trouble with the pass; they wisely took
the train.] She was overjoyed to see them, of course, but then she collapsed
into her mother’s lap in tears. She was
looking forward to celebrating Christmas with Aunt Ina and Uncle Jack, even
though she knew her parents were coming.
“Don’t
cry, Shirley Anne,” her mother began. “You’re going to stay here with Aunt Ina
and Uncle Jack until Christmas Eve. Daddy and I are very busy just now, but we’ll
come to the Gingerbread Pageant at the schoolhouse tomorrow, and Aunt Ina has
invited us to her Christmas Eve party. Won’t that be fun?” Shirley Anne smiled
as she wiped away her tears. “In fact, you will stay here until Christmas Day,
and after Santa’s visit, we will leave for Seattle.”
With
that settled, Ina invited the Smiths to join them for supper – beef stew and
more of her delicious cornbread – while Shirley Anne explained what she had
learned in school – that today was the “winter solstice,” the shortest day of
the year.
When Mr. and Mrs. Smith had taken their leave, Shirley Anne got ready for bed. Then she sat with Aunt Ina and Uncle Jack to read that day's cards. [And that appears to be a passing tradition which we can only do in memory.] KW
2 comments:
The Christmas lights are sorely needed on this darkest day of the year, yet it seems so many people do not have the spirit.
Glad that Shirley Anne can continue her fun.
I think there are fewer outdoor lights every year. I used to love to watch the seasonal lights pop up on the houses on the hill above our town house, but this year I could hardly tell the difference. Mike gave up the effort several years ago, and that's understandable, but even our neighbor, a man in his 40s, said that he was tired of doing it. He switched to laser projection lights, and we did, too, and we've had some fun with it.
And though Ina didn't have electric lights, she would agree with you that Christmas is sorely needed to help folks through the dark months. Her attitude is helpful to me: have fun with your preparations and let the good cheer carry you through to spring. We have such a tendency to focus just on Christmas as a day and then let it drift away into darkness. Loves.
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