This afternoon I recycled another 20 catalogs and sales circulars hawking this year’s tacky and overpriced must-haves.
And tonight our Christmas tree fell over while we were eating dinner. Humbug.
But before I get all morose, let’s take note of some of the seasonal good stuff. Here goes (in the key of C):
1. Caroling at the Capitol: Every year we wander up Congress Avenue and gather in the luminance of the Capitol dome to sing carols – balmy weather be damned. John Aielli of KUT (http://kut.org/) leads the motley choir in everything from Frosty the Snowman to Little Town of Bethlehem. And all the snow-starved little Texans (including ours) roll like apples down the broad hills. Silent Night, sung a cappella, thrums through the crowd like a warm wire.
2. Crafts: Cutting snowflakes out of folded paper – could one ever tire of the magic? Our house is positively littered with construction paper and glitter – so messy and festive. This year we went overboard and designed our own tree skirt. (My Grateful-Dead-era Indian bedspread worked ‘til now, but why not grow up a little?) The girls and I had a veritable 1950’s craft extravaganza – felt and ribbons and buttons, oh my. (Well, except for the fact that I actually hot-glued the skirt to the hardwood floor, but it’s been freed now, so nevermind.)
3. The Circle of Light: The thing about living in Austin is that the water pipes and street signs and bones of every house ring with song. It can get a little disheartening if you’re me and your sole musical talent is humming, but mostly there are upsides. One of those is the exquisite event that is Circle of Light. Local chanteuse Tina Marsh and her Creative Opportunity Orchestra (http://www.creop.org/ ) come to our neighborhood elementary school each December for a week of workshops on Christmas, Hanukah, Kwanzaa, Diwali and Ramadan, with the message that we people are more alike than different and that we are allied around our celebrations of light – the light of hope, the light of good over evil, the light of love, the light of being alive. Our kids hear stories, and make Stars of David, beaded necklaces and rice alpanas. They taste tamales and chai, black-eyed peas and latkes. They sing in Portuguese and Yiddish. And on the final day, Tina brings nearly 20 musicians to the school cafeteria for an astonishing concert that brings everyone who’s got a beating heart to their feet and to their knees, simultaneously.
4. Christmas Trees: When I was wee, we’d four-wheel up into the mountains and cut down a tree that was inevitably too big for our little hearth, much to my sister’s and my delight. In the city, though, one tends to trot down to the tree lot on the corner, select genus, species and height, and wrap it up for home. Takes a little of the wildness out of the whole thing. So this year, we drove out to the sweet little burg of Elgin, Texas, to Evergreen Farms. (http://www.evergreen-farms.com/ ) It was sunny and cool and blustery – like a Midwestern autumn – and a hay wagon hauled us out to the field to choose our tree. Next to every choppable tree stood a fledgling newbie, already growing into next year’s crop. A comfort. After much debate, everyone took a turn at the saw and we had our monarch of the forest. But we couldn’t leave without roasting a couple of marshmallows over the open fire, feeding the goats, petting the donkey and running around ‘til our boots thumped heavy with mud. Joy to the World.
5. Christmas Cookies: Everybody’s eaten their body weight in dough and the raw eggs apparently didn’t kill us this time, so that’s something to rejoice about right there. Cookies are so quintessential. This weekend we had some of our best old friends in town and on Sunday, drizzle kept us housebound. Soften the butter and sift the flour! Before you could say jolly old Saint Nicholas, seven kids gathered around the table with tin cookie cutters and jars of sprinkles. Nobody even noticed that they were mostly black and orange, left-over from some intended Halloween treats that never materialized this year.
6. Advent Calendars: Oh, the lovely, methodical anticipation that is advent. Whether the little doors open to chocolate or poems, messages or treats, this simple countdown holds excitement so tangibly. This morning, our youngest stumbled into the kitchen with her eyes still shut, whispering with eagerness, “Today we open number 11. Today, Mama. Today.”
7. Christmas Ornaments: Some homes hang their trees with matching bows or thematic ornaments or striking silver balls. At our house, we take more of a huddled masses approach. Come one, come all. No ornament is too large or small, too simple or gauche, too hilarious. Including: bejewled toilet-paper rolls, tiny beaded globes from Tanzania, needlepoint pillows my mother made when I was five, half-a-dozen ‘Wisconsin Christmas’ discs, a funny wooden pig, the beloved German-glass figures my college roommate sends me, the silver bells my godmother Sally sends me, the paper chains my daughters made just the other night. No wonder the tree fell over.
On that note, I’ll trail off, with wishes for some of this amazing good fortune to everyone, near and far. Go tell it on the mountain. Feliz navidad, shalom, namaste.