There was a time when we decided when we were ready to participate in all the holiday hoopla. The spirit of the season usually hit me as we drove to McCall, after venting about work but feeling rejuvenated by the thought of two weeks vacation ahead of us.
Now, it’s different. The holidays have a whole new sense of magical wonder, especially when you look through the eyes of a four-year-old child.
Already we’ve savored many merry festivities: Christmas books by the fire, an impromptu snuggle in Papa Noel’s lap (Alice asked him for Skunk Bingo, score!), a hunt for the perfect Christmas tree, baking gingerbread men and women to sell at the Christmas market, a whirlwind trip to Boise for Alice and I where we briefly saw a few loved ones and spotted our favorite performers doing their thing, we’ve wrapped, packaged and taped, crafted and decorated, been to the ski hill, and snowshoed in the woods at night (with headlamps)!
But I had to slow down, I needed a break from all things holiday for a minute. It got cold, the snow paused, and the birds remained busy at the feeders. Amazing all the different birds we see in the same scene! Flickers dominate, woodpeckers show up surprisingly often, chickadees, juncos, red-brested nuthatches abound, and a single mourning dove seemed a bit out of place.
Winter is just beginning and I know not all is well in the world. But the change of season feels nice. The snow is falling again. We are hunkered down. I like the view out my window and I don’t (always) mind being bossed by my four-year-old. The birds have exposed the pinecones and we must get back.