A Very Literary Christmas

 

It’s the most wonderful time of the year! And my favorite part of the wonder of Christmas is the magic of Christmas stories. Rather than stowing 100_1778a bunch of gifts under the tree for the month—tempting little fingers to pick and peek at them—I scatter our collection of Christmas books under the branches. This gives my kids something they can handle, old friends they can revisit from the previous years.

 

We spend a few days reading through a chapter book or read a picture book each night while enjoying the sparkle and messages of the season. So far this year, we’ve read CHRISTMAS MAGIC by Patricia Hermes and YOU ARE MY MIRACLE by Maryann Cusimano Love and Satomi Ichikawa.

 

Another thing I love is Christmas music. Here’s a sample of one of my favorite voices—Mitch Malloy—singing Silent Night.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LFOdUJ8W9rs&feature=g-hist

What are your family’s traditions? Your favorite Christmas story? Song?

Yellow-coated Fluff

Spring is great—for the most part.
I dread what spring means—summer is coming. During spring, I typically mope around mourning the loss of whatever tidbit of winter we were blessed to have been given over the past few months. Autumn, on the other hand, is a rebirth. Returning to nature after being trapped inside because the mosquitoes and humidity are too much to bear—especially when children are in your care.
But this month I’ve been focusing on the event of spring itself—not the dreaded summer lurking around the next calendar pages. We’ve been doing tons of outdoor activities from gardening to nature hikes to enjoy the moderate temperatures and the flowering abundance.

Go seize your pollen-covered day!

It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year

Hope everyone had a magical weekend. Here’s a peek at one of our seasonal adventures.

On a side note, if you put both an orange and a vanilla flavored Tootsie Fruit Roll in your mouth at the same time it tastes like an orange creamsicle.
Autumn on the Gulf Coast came and went and came and… I hope it sticks around this time! The crisp weather of fall (if we’re lucky enough to receive typical seasonal weather) is invigorating. I usually get inspirational writing boosts this time of year but it hasn’t happened yet. So, I’m sitting at my desk with the table top fan blowing on my face, praying for the courage to step forward with my WIP. I haven’t made major progress on Corroded (because of other projects—and laziness) in at least two months. This blog is my jumping point to get back into the swing of things. I need to face the climax of the novel and conquer!
Even growing up in the also sporadic climate of coastal California, inspiration happened this time of year. I believe I began each of my novel length stories in the fall, starting at fifteen years old. The bulk of my poetry was written in autumn, with a generous helping of winter and some spring sprinkled in. Flipping through my poetry notebook I can count on one hand the poems written during the summer months. And speaking of poetry, I haven’t written a cataloged poem since I was pregnant with my oldest in 1998. Question to self: What’s up with that?!
But for now, I’ve got a terrifically awful poem to share. Remember, these poems are two decades old in some cases. Don’t hold it against me! This one happens to be from the autumn I started college, at seventeen years old.
Breath of Life
Days do ever pass Leaves turn golden and fall Attending our last class Is a walk down an endless hall
Sometimes it will seem Like it’s you against the rest But your light will forever beam You know you’re one of the best
So keep in touch With that strong sensation It will give you much Over-powering elation

Ice

This morning frost covered the grass and the bird baths were iced over- up to 1/8 of an inch around the rim. All the other cold nights this month only produced some frost on the rooftops. There was even a glittering layer of ice crystals on the canvas of the folding chair on the front porch. I enjoy the winter while I can… it goes so quickly here, if it decides to visit.

Week After Christmas

Writing Exercise, edited for privacy:
The Week after Christmas Adapted from the classic poem written by Clement Moore
‘Twas the week after Christmas and all through the room the natives were restless, awaiting the moon.
Stockings, once hung on the fish tank with care, caused the oscar to wonder why they’re still there. Toys and messes were strewn across the floor, trains, markers, and papers galore.
A and N were hustled to bed, while visions of presents danced in their heads. On the sofa was J, sprawled out like a pet, flipping through channels and surfing the net.
With a sigh of relief I settled into my seat got comfy and cozy and propped up my feet. And S in her jammies, looking so sweet, had just settled in for a long bite to eat.
The hustle and bustle was starting to slow and the birth of a new year will soon be a glow. From our family to yours we wish a good night and the light of the gospel to light up your life.