Christmas Past

Well, there we are, me and my siblings, minus my youngest brother, who was not yet born. I'm second from right and I think I'm 10 years old in this photo. I remember that brown, gold and cream flannel bathrobe; these are not colors I favor now.

When we were all grown, my mother papered the wall behind us in a beautiful grass-cloth fabric. Two weeks later, my toddler son scribbled all over it with a magic marker.

Mom didn't bat an eye.

Merry Merry

My friend Louise sent me this angel last Christmas, the year of The Unfinished Angel.  It's just under four inches high and sits on my windowsill year round now. She reminds me of the unfinished angel in my book, and her quirkiness reminds me of my friend and of a younger me. I like that the angel is always looking up and that her wings, though crackled, are still intact.

In thinking about what holiday images I wanted to post to wish you all a merry, merry, I first chose the angel.  Next, a wreath with snow on it:

A tree in the house, a wreath on the door, and snow on the wreath: that's all I need to slip into the season. That snowman by the door lights up and is my husband's addition to the front entrance. Ahem. The grandchildren LOVE it.

The final image I chose is not a conventional holiday one, but rather a reminder that our grandchildren left behind after a summer visit:

You've got to smell those roses, right?  Animals, children, flowers: bliss.

Happy holidays, everyone! May your 2011 be healthy and sweet.

Reflections

Winter's late afternoon light streams in all the windows and makes the rooms glow.  I'm always trying to capture that light.  After I'm long gone, someone will come across dozens of photos of light-on-walls and perhaps wonder why on earth I'd take all those 'empty' shots.  Empty? Maybe I'll be the shadow in the room.

Stopping in the Snow

It's a stop-and-gawk-at-the-snow kind of day.  Mm-mm.

Turning Points

Two weeks ago, on the day I finished the last draft (of this round) of the new book, a few dozen white birds landed on the lake. Swans? Snow geese? Perhaps one of you can tell us what they are.  Beautiful they were, but short stay visitors. Off they went to the south, and off my manuscript went to the east, to editor and agent.

Then it was limbo time: catching up on delayed obligations while awaiting word on the ms.

The snows came, gently at first and then blizzardy all around, and now there is a still, frozen, white beauty outside:

When the snows stopped, the agent and the editor weighed in: ta da! All is well. The book survives. There will be more to fix and polish, but these first viewings are key.

Outside, I look back in and see the inside and outside reflected back and forth:

And it somehow reflects the book: I am in it and out of it, in every word and every image.

Maybe you will see my tracks:

The next stage includes discussions with editor and further polishing and revision. That will take anywhere from weeks to months. But right now, I'm relieved and content.

'Night everyone; stay warm if you are in snow country.

Snow at the Lake

We left home a week ago at the start of a blizzard and we returned home last night to find several feet of fresh, white snow decorating the house, the trees, the newly-frozen lake. It's a pure, white vista from my office window.

We have been waiting for this first big snowfall of the season and are grateful we can stay put and enjoy it. By March, people will be cursing this snow that now seems miraculous.

My husband won't mind shoveling today, but it's the tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow that might wear him down. Yes, I will help. Probably.

Stay warm, all of you in snow country. . .