This is another of those Posts Interrupted (like this one, posted several weeks ago). I’m not sure why this pattern seems to be trending here lately, procrastination and interruption and determination to complete jostling for place. But today, this post gets finished!
Here’s the post I had almost finished last Thursday:
I’ve been here, writing, for over half an hour, and I’ve just deleted the two paragraphs describing ways this Christmas will be different than usual. You know: not able to be with friends or family; all the cancelled parties; no live Nutcracker or Bach oratorio or even (especially?) the grandkids’ school Christmas concert; no in-store shopping because it’s not worth the risk or we can’t bear the mask-wearing or longer line-ups. . .And so on. And so on. . .
But as I was writing those paragraphs, and then realizing how tiresome they were, how long it was taking me to get to the point (which was, ultimately, a point of positivity, truly!), I remembered these two posts, from ten years ago. This one, in fact, which I called Keeping the Grinch out of Christmas, refers back to a moment almost a decade before that, not too far into this millennium, a moment when I knew I needed to simplify my Christmas, and realized that was okay. Andin this post, a small child (my first granddaughter) demonstrated the benefits of a simpler focus and a slower pace. . .
It’s true that both of those posts refer to gathering with my family, something we will not be able to do this year, and I can’t get around minding that. Very much. However, those posts also remind me of how challenging the holiday season can be, normally (remember Normal? or only our rosy nostalgic version of it?), how rushed and stressful and exhausting.
So here’s the Positive my two deleted paragraphs were trying to arrive at (and now, as you see, I’ve managed it in three): we have the slowed-down, quiet holiday season we might just really need. . . Freed from obligations which are now impossible to meet — forbidden, in some cases — we can decide what really pleases us. What is important enough to make happen despite Covid restrictions? How can we distill that to a manageable essence? And with all the Shoulds cleared away, what is there now room for that we’ve always thought might be fun to try, if only there’d been time enough?
Last week’s highlights, for me, as an example:
Tuesday, crisp and cold, a blue sky and sunshine, so I walked four kilometres to my favourite children’s bookstore to start my Christmas shopping. Honestly, it’s hard to be grumpy while shopping for kids’ books, especially since I also chose a few additions to my Christmas/winter picture-book collection. I had to wear a mask inside, sure, but the store wasn’t crowded, nor were there any line-ups.
And bonus: as I left the store, almost 1 o’clock, my husband texted that his meeting was over and did I want to meet for lunch? I’d spotted a little Italian place with tables outside, and waited for him there. The thermometer was just above freezing but in the midday sun, I was warm enough to take my scarf off and unbutton my coat. Delicious house-made pasta and all the serendipity I associate with travel discoveries. . . (They make their own Pannetone as well, and I’m thinking I might order one. . . even thinking I might make Zabaglione to spoon over it. Too much?)
2. Wednesday, inspired by a post somewhere in my Social Media, I made Ginger Sugar cookies. And they came surprisingly close to the Ur-ginger-sugar-cookies I have idealized since making them — once! — in Grade 8 Home Economics. To me, ginger and Christmas go together, so this was Holiday Spirit all the way, especially the fragrance filling the condo.
Bonus (again): I tucked half a dozen of the biggest cookies into a container and delivered them to the granddaughter who lives down the street. We might not be able to visit right now, but cookie deliveries are allowed. She promised to share them with her parents.
And then I stopped, somehow overwhelmed by which highlights to choose and whether they would shine enough for anyone else to grasp their value and I chose a shortcut to my Friday post, sharing a page from my sketch journal featuring some creative frugality. And then I posted Creative Frugality, Part II, on Sunday, with photos of the jeans I sashiko-mended. . . .
Now I’m at my keyboard again, and I either finish last Thursday’s post or I delete it. All those hours! So finishing it is. . . Here we go, but point form:
–Reading to my grandchildren on FaceTime might be my favourite highlight. If anyone’s interested, I could write a post about what I’ve been reading and where and a few simple techniques to make the storytime work well. . .We’ve had some really sweet interactions and some funny ones as well, and I’ve been read to by emerging readers who are very thoughtful about making sure I can see the pictures. When I first opened the Christmas storage boxes and confronted my large collection of Christmas/winter-themed picture books, I was a bit teary about missing those seasonal reading and cuddling sessions (hot chocolate and cookies, of course). . . But technology to the rescue. Not the same, no, but not bad. . .
–Wrapping gifts to send in the mail, drawing simple (child-like!) Christmas designs on the plain wrapping paper. So many of the season’s obligations have been stripped away, the busy-ness calmed, such that I could focus on the simple joy of tucking our love into gifts to our absent loved ones. Only two packages, two destinations. I might not have been as sanguine about eight or ten. . . .
–Similarly, I’m enjoying sending out cards, something I’ve only done for a very few people, occasionally. I’m not grumbling about how much the cards I like cost, nor the price of postage, nor the writer’s cramp. Just writing 5 or 6 a day, as I feel like it, and popping them in the mailbox on my afternoon walk.
–And the silliest of teeny pleasure, knitting and embroidering a wee sweater to hang on the tree (that’s supposed to be a string of Christmas lights ornamenting the front). . . I tucked it into the Christmas card I sent off to a family of youngsters who might be amused. . . In the early years of family life, I hand-stitched a number of ornaments that decorate this year’s tree, 40-some years later. And then became far too busy. Now, thanks to Covid, who knows? If the moths don’t find this little sweater, maybe someone in that little family might find a branch for it decades on. . .
— And a highlight that really has nothing to do with Christmas preparations — which is precisely why it was able to be a highlight. Check outmy Instagram feed for the photographs of our glorious bike ride last Saturday — especially themagical murmurationsof the dunlins (a type of shorebird). Most years, we’re too busy shopping or visiting or making jars of lemon curd or spiced nuts to give as hostess gifts, so that we don’t spare Saturday mornings for prolonged outings.
I would even argue that those moments on the dyke, marvelling at the synchronized flight of tens of thousands of birds, brought me as close to the numinous as anything else I might have done in any year of “Normal” Christmas preparation. And, ultimately, isn’t that the whole point? The light at the darkest point of the earth’s turn?
And you? I know you must have sorrows now, and worries, burdens that the news cycles and the winter darkness (for those of us in the northern hemisphere) make heavier. But are you also able to find light in this imposed quiet and the slowed pace? Simple, small pleasures. New traditions or ones resurrected after years of I’m-too-busy neglect? Care to share in the comments below? And perhaps your small highlights will be a light for others as we inspire and console each other.
I loved this post.
Today I wrapped and am about to send off a few packages of handmade gifts to far-away people I care a lot about, but who don't always make it into my circle of attention in the usual holiday bustle. One, for example, was a combination housewarming/holiday gift of reversible cloth napkins to my oldest niece who bought her first house here in the US after years of teaching abroad. The napkins featured winter birds on the front and fragments of musical notation on the back. I took particular pleasure in the bit of black and white twine I found in my stash of bits and pieces with which I tied the packet of napkins. It pulled together the black background and the bits of white in the birds plumage in a most satisfying way! This enforced time with less outside stimulation has sharpened my focus on and appreciation of the tiny details of life. That's on a good days of course; I don't want to imply that I go around unflaggingly cheerful and filled with gratitude. Not quite.But still, the good days are there, and I remind myself to number them, too.
And, yes, please list tips for making FaceTime reading sessions go well with emerging readers. I am about to start regular sessions with several grandchildren: twin five year olds, a four, and a three. Separately, since the kinds of books they like and their attention spans vary of course.
Any chance you might share the ur-ginger cookies recipe? Many years ago my aunt, since long gone to her reward, made wonderful ginger cookies and I keep trying to rediscover them.
We've been very isolated since mid-March and the cold weather is making the solace of time out doors more challenging. I can't imagine eating outdoors at this point!
ceci
Re-reading your earlier post about Christmas pressures reminded me of past years which I managed to make much too hard for myself and, probably, for others as a result. Which is why I am not concerned with having smaller festivities this year as I learned the hard way that most of the things we do at Christmas are entirely optional. I will, however, be reading Lucy and Tom's Christmas by Shirley Hughes, as I do each year and loving every image. I am attempting to read Charles Dickens' Christmas Stories but they are rather soul-sapping and don't thrill the heart. Let us all stay safe and warm this year more than any other.
Great post! I love the idea of reading remotely to my two youngest grandchildren, as I, too, got teary when I saw all my children's Christmas books. I also enjoyed doing Christmas cards this year and even all the gift-wrapping! My miniature knitting was a garland of tiny winter hats — so much fun to make!
The reading to the grandchildren over Zoom and sending off a few cards and packages sounds, to me, like beautiful, scaled back, thoughtful seasonal gestures. The " tiny details of life" as RK calls them above speaks to what drives me, always but especially after our collective, protracted rollercoaster ride since last March. I do want to be on RK's Christmas list for the reversible cloth dinner napkins, though My idea of luxury. Maybe next year RK you will be taking orders?!
Although I hand make cards every year, this year of disruption of having to travel to Maine suddenly for my mother allowed the prep for that to be one of the many things I let go. While the making and sending give me enormous pleasure, I know there will be other years.
While here, I have spent hours soaking up walking, hiking and chatting in the cold Maine air with friends of decades, a cousin or two, my sister and BIL and have seen daily, in short spurts, my mother every day for a take out lunch, a laugh, or a recalled story….all which I have written down when I come home to share with my sister later. Have learned a lot. And she wants to be Maine's first recipient of the vaccine. If that is what she wants, I hope it happens. She has a crush on Dr. Fauci, ( and Jon Bon Jovi..!) and she follows the vaccine news for hours a day.
If allowed to return easily to London sometime soon, I will fling little Christmas lights over every surface and make my floating fresh cranberry and candle centerpiece and call that Christmas. Leave it all up until the end of January for that is my way, although, to many a raised eyebrow by surrounding neighbors I am sure. Will call that Christmas this year and be happy I have the same number of friends and family members that I started the year with….and 20 January is coming no matter what noise and resistance: a beautiful way to start 2021.
Love to all-we will make it through.
♡ A.in London
Making the best out of not the most ideal of situations. Yes! Keeping with traditions to the degree possible…it is all good. I'd like to buy a gingerbread cake and serve it with whip cream. I'm on a search.
RK: Oh, that's just lovely, as an example of what I'm trying to get at. That pleasure you took in the resonance of twine and fabric, a gift to yourself and to recipient (lucky niece, those napkins!)
Thanks for your interest in my FT grandchild reading — I will put that post together, then, before too long.
Ceci: Happy to share that recipe — or, at least, the link (unfortunately, you'll have to copy and paste it into your browser: rockrecipes.com/auntie-craes-ginger-sugar-cookies/
You might find them too sweet. I'm thinking I might try cutting back sugar next time I make them, but I'm also aware the sugar might have to do with the texture being so satisfying. . .
Annie Green: That book is not in my Christmas collection — I will correct the omission, thank you!
Tricia: The reading doesn't always work the way I hope, but with patience and flexibility and careful choices, it can be satisfying nonetheless. . . And now I think I need to seek out a mini-hat-garland pattern 😉 Do you follow the wonderful Yarn Harlot (IG and blog) — she's made some wonderful Advent calendars featuring clever little knit ornaments. . .
A in London: I'm glad to hear you're able to make the most of this strange time, even more so for you given your mother's health and your own displacement (albeit to a second home). . . as for letting go of the Christmas cards, I sometimes think that traditions or annual rituals are better for being let go of occasionally, for a year or several. . . We either learn that they've been an obligation rather than a joy . . . Or we return to them understanding their value more fully.
Susan: Oh, I hope you find that gingerbread cake, the perfect one to be topped with fresh whipped cream. Mmmmm. . .
Merry Christmas, Frances, and may your highlights shine ever so brightly in the dark the remains. Sending you love from here.
just finished with the Christmas shopping. tried to go with local shops, a high tech top for riding for my equestrienne daughter from a local tack shop, a sweater for my son from the Army/navy store. bees wax candles from the farm down the road where they raise these bees. I did brave a mall for some perfume my granddaughter wanted. the thought of going there was kind of scary but actually almost no one was there. I am in the midst of sending cards, a tradition for me all my adult life. Your post made me think of a recipe for ginger cookies which I have wanted to make for some time, so maybe I will give it a try. the family won't gather this year, probably will spend it with my daughter and her husband, as we are together quite a bit. I have decorated but have decided to forgo a tree this year. hopefully nest year will put up a large beautiful one with all my cherished ornaments collected over a lifetime and have everyone over to celebrate. wishing you and your family a wonderful holiday.
Darby in New York
I talked to my sister on the phone a couple of days ago and we decided not to get together for Christmas this year, even though we live in the same city and we would have been a maximum of six people around the table, all grown-ups, either retired or working from home. It is just not worth taking the risk. But all family meetings being cancelled I find myself under more pressure than normally at this time of the year (which I would never have imagined to be possible) because now I have to send off about seven parcels. And if I want them to have at least a remote chance of getting to their destination on time, I have to get them into the mail TOMORROW. At the same time as having to prepare ths semester's last all-day online class next saturday. What I am really looking forward to are the days "between the years", that magic week suspended between Christmas and New Year's Eve, when all work is done and it is still early for making plans.
I love your little sweater. This year I knitted my first Christmas balls as gifts for some young people in the family who cannot visit their parents and will have to put up their own little Christmas trees for the first time in their lives. But the "tiny things" are so much cuter. I will follow the advice of knitting one per month next year, so as to have a stash of little presents by December.
Lisa: xo
Darby: It sounds as if you're being very thoughtful in how you'll celebrate this Christmas, managing some continuity with the most important traditions and letting others go this year, to be picked up in the future. May you have a holiday that brings you peace and joy.
Eleonore: I think that's a wise decision you've made, even if it exceeds what is required and even though it will be tough to implement. We're not even allowed to gather six, but rather asked to stay with our own immediate household, although those living alone have been encouraged to find one or two others in similar circumstances with whom they're permitted to get together. . . I know what you mean about those days between Christmas and New Year's — may you enjoy them to the fullest!
I'm actually as neutral as ever about this holiday – and perhaps more cheerful about buying/mailing gifts. This year has shown me how naturally introverted I am. Of course, I love people – I'm gregarious! – and I miss the regular way of things, if just for the freedom, but I was always the one opting out. Now I don't have to make excuses (or pretend to have energy that just isn't there). I wonder how the world will unfold over the next year or 2. And I wonder if, at some point, this will start to bother me. But for now, I have all that I need. Would it be nice if Miranda were closer? Yes – though then I'd be so worried for her (given that this is the covid epicentre in Canada). Do I wish that I could see my parents, esp under the recent circumstances (and veritable near death of my mother)? Oh yes. But working from home makes the incessant pressures vaguely tolerable (except for the lack of boundaries). I am so grateful for my home and for Scott. I simply see this as one of the many waves I've ridden in this life thus far, which is a blessing, I realize. In addition to being challenging, this is a fascinating time to be alive.
Love that tiny sweater as well. xo
what a lovely, human, and heartwarming post. You brightened my day. Days actually, as I think I have read this over and over and not commented. I don’t have my decorations out, but I rarely do before the third Sunday of Advent (yesterday) and I don’t think I can handle a tree by myself this year but I will do something else instead. This…zooming,…baking….delivering food or notes. It seems about time to get back to what is really important. Not that I know what that is or should be. I think we each know in our hearts, and perhaps the small joys are all the more precious for being so hard won. Merry Christmas to you, and much warmth.
Kristin: I'm also naturally introverted although I can be gregarious — which puzzled me until I read Susan Cain's book, Quiet . . . And I know I used to be gregarious more often and had more endurance even just a decade ago. So mostly I'm okay with the current quiet, although I miss my siblings, their families, my nieces and nephews — we haven't met since February. . . And my own kids and grandkids, of course, although at least I've seen most of them more recently. Will be strange not to be together at Christmas, but it's only one Christmas out of a lifetime . . .
Sue: It's cute, right? Silly? But cute!
Mardel: I'm so pleased to know my post brought you some small joy. Merry Christmas to you as well!