A Lady Dancing
a lord -a- leaping
Our freshly cut tree from Walker's Farm is festooned with Piper's piping, Swans- a -Swimming , a Partridge in a Pear Tree, a Maid -a- Milking the the other 12 suspects of the Twelve Days of Christmas. A collection of hand blown glass ornaments and icicles sparkle through the
Italian ribbons that stream down from the Renaissance angel that sits a top the tree like a Filippino Lippi angel heralding from on high.
Out the window is the full Cold Moon of a few days past. The blanket of fresh snow is bright from the light of the moon.
December has been colder than usual, but this is the first real snow we have seen this winter,
Inside, our wreath summons the image of the full moon and the mantle is covered by large magnolia leaves and crystal candelabras that were a gift to me from James many Christmases ago.
It is the Sunday before Christmas. The fire is cracking , cocktails are poured, there is pecorino and honey to be savored. The house is warm, a chicken is roasting in the oven and there is Bach to fill this large room with music.
All this we are grateful for.