On Christmas Eve, a very dear day, as I bake and wrap and sweep, part of me is out there in the woods and fields amongst the wild things…
As I was in truth when I walked through the house last week and glanced out of the front door window to see our kitty sitting on the doorstep, our dog a little further on laying down in the circle of the drive, and just beyond him in the dusky field, a small herd of deer peacefully grazing. As I slipped into the steaming outdoor tub a few moments later, I could just make out the deer as they slowly stepped through the long grass of the hayfield on their way to the woods, as the moon rose and seven geese flew overhead, softly calling…
A few days later, as we were driving home from a Christmas concert in town, nearly home with the light almost gone, we slowed down when we saw a herd of deer near the edge of the road…
…then gasped and stopped altogether when we saw the small, mostly white doe standing amongst the rest. I tried to take a photo of this piebald deer, but only managed a managed a misty, moonlit snap as they ran away and then turned to stare at us from afar…
…but the thought of her has stayed with me, through all of the peace and the busyness, the strain and the joy to be found in these dear days…
…it has felt…essential, somehow, to think of the deer as these December days have unfolded. In just a few minutes, I will listen to The Festival of Nine Lessons and Carols on BBC radio as I mash potatoes and make fudge for the Christmas Day feasting…
…and I know that I will have my ear out for the carols that mention my current infatuation while I stir and form and will imagine them taking shelter in our woods tonight as, perhaps the dearest day of all circles ’round to us…
Wishing you dear, peaceful, contented days and thanking you for reading here and the way our lives touch each other through these glass pages…
xo
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