'Tis the season

Time seems to have been slipping past quickly these past few weeks but I refuse to let it carry me along on waves of panic or make me feel frantic. Where's the pleasure in that?

I'm a somewhat unhurried and reflective person on the best of days.  (Alright... pokey is a more apt description.)  My mantra, no matter the time of year is, "What gets done gets done."  And I've learned that if I allow myself to get too caught up in preparations for Christmas I miss the beauty of the season entirely.

And so I'm doing what I can to stay at peace and enjoy each day.  It is still Autumn, after all, despite all the artificial snow and sleighbells one sees nearly everywhere. The gardens and pavement are full of jubilant jewel tones—ruby red rose hips, amber andromeda, and sable brown seed heads—and today we are relishing unexpectedly mild weather with a damp earthy scent in the air.  Short-lived, no doubt, but welcome after several very chilly nights.

We had a steady but very light snowfall throughout much of Saturday, filled with "rainy snowflakes" (or perhaps they were "snowy raindrops") drifting downward from leaden skies and coating the trees and shrubberies and roofs like confectionery sugar.  There was a fire on the hearth and scones and tea on the table and a sense of winter stealthily making its way to us until we are entirely consumed with the efforts to stay warm and dry.

But not today.  Today is positively balmy and Christmas couldn't seem further away despite my having turned the calendar to December two days ago. I have been quietly knitting, reading, writing, pondering things, tidying the house, and slowly going through boxes and sacks of presents I've been putting aside all year to see what there is.  Something invariably turns up that I'd entirely forgotten about.

No doubt my own plodding progress towards Bethlehem this year will be as measured and perhaps even as tardy as the Three Kings. Like them, I will have gifts for loved ones—humble tokens of how grateful I am for their presence in my life.  And as Christmas draws near, I will try to remember what is truly important.

What can I give Him, poor as I am?
If I were a shepherd, I would bring a lamb;
If I were a Wise Man, I would do my part.
Yet what I can I give Him -- give my heart.

      —Christina Rosetti