Heather's blog

Sunday's Thought

"Love shall be our token; love be yours and mine,

love to God and neighbor, love for plea and gift and sign." --Christina Rossetti

(From a Christmas hymn in the Episcopal Church Hymnal)


Story Time at Mimi's

Caroline calls it Mimi Time, as in "I think I need some Mimi Time" (her name for me is Mimi) and I call it Caroline Time, as in "I think I need some Caroline Time." She is almost five, her birthday is next week, and I am almost 56, my birthday is in June. But we both are old enough and young enough to like good dog Pearl, playing outside, coloring, listening to Christmas music in January, and reading out loud.

Follow Your Star

The wind must have shifted just enough last night to keep the whole town up. Pearl was pacing all night long. It sounds like thunder and feels like an earthquake to her. Naturally, she's in deep dreamland now. On the way to Morning Muscles lawn chairs skittered down the icy road, and I almost ran into a big spruce tree that the wind had knocked down across Tower Road. 

Cold Spell, Warm Hearts

Listening to the forecast is humbling. It's supposed to stay this windy (50 mph or so) and pretty cold (warmer, like 18) until Friday. They are playing hockey at the rink and the ice is good on Rutzebeck Lake. (But be careful, as always.) The ski club has set tracks at 25 mile, where there's lots of snow. ( The dividing line between ice coated town and a winter wonderland of snow is about four-mile.) The sun and the fire are keeping the living room cozy.

Coincidence? Or?

Last night, over black-eyed peas, greens, and corn bread-- New Year's good luck food, we five women friends talked about faith, spirits, and a clairvoyant some of us had visited when she came to Haines a few years ago. (Our spouses watched the football game.) It was a rambling talk around my mother's old table that veered between the known and unknown, life and death, the great beyond, God and no God, music or flames, all of it. And it wasn't depressing even though two of the friends had lost young sons in tragic accidents.

Happy New year

We are almost back to normal. With Christmas and New Year's falling on Thursdays the last two weeks have been kind of manic-- on and off again-- celebrate and get to it-- and today we are sort of on again-- it is a work day before one final (sort of) holiday weekend.

A Little Port?

Maybe it's the lack of snow, or my eyes, but is sure seems darker than usual. Still, it's nice that Margaret is at the radio station at six to keep us company. Pearl and I stayed in bed and listened to the news while Chip leaped up and did his stretches and worked out above the garage. It was so comfortable that I re-read another Christmas book, A Child's Christmas in Wales, by Dylan Thomas.



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