A moist fog rolled under the full moon after midnight, flocking the forest trees in a thick blanket of ice. Deer tracks weave crisscross designs in the crusty snow over the frozen river. My coffee sits on the window sill, swaying steam melts a frosty pattern on the silver-white glass. This is a winter wonder land of beauitful sights, as an orange-shafted flicker with feathers ruffled, calls out in a clear voice as it flits from tree to tree looking for food. Sarah my dalmatian-boxer and Micky my fox terrier, nap on the rug near the wood stove as it snaps, crackles, and pops, and I count my blessings.
This year I have a warm cabin, food, and hot and cold running water. I do my best at not letting the ghost of memory past invade my heart with sorrow. Holding myself tight, I fight off emotions that try to spoil this Christmas day. Writing helps keep me sane through the loneness, and so it's time to pour myself another cup of coffee, and put another log in the stove.
This afternoon I'll have Christmas dinner with good friends.
4 comments:
merry christmas susan.
i had an argument with my new bride this morning and she's gone for two days! i sit here alone.
because of the fragility of my personal dynamics, i cannot write, publicly, what i want to write about.
my gift to you is an idea.
i want you to write about being snowbound and you have no idea when you'll be able to come down from the mountain again.
some day i hope to meet you...
Merry Christmas to you Steve, and thank you for the gift.
How many blogs do you thing are out there in blogadum? What are the chances of a person surfing in, reading a story or two and staying a fan for, how many years has it been, three or four?
There is something about you that I admire, it shows through in your stories like a beam of light. You also scare me at times, but you always make me dig deep in trying to understand life. The whats it all about Alfie, devil or angel, agony and extensity of love and emotions makes you a mysterious bad boy.Your wife must be a saint...please know I'm smileing when I say that.
Maybe we were closer in another lifetime, my Peter Pan, Huckleberry Finn friend.
As to your writing...you're a writer, so write. You can say whatever you need to say through fictional characters and not worry about recrimination.
The really good writers are not wrapped to tight, that's what makes them good writers...we be in the same boat sometimes.
At first this journal made me sad that I didn't spend time with you on Christmas Day, but then I realized I did - I held you in my heart and thought of you and your fires and snow drifting creatures in the wind on Christmas Day, and your sleeping pups by the warmth. Somehow I knew you'd have dinner with friends - and be grateful for life and possibilities.
to steve, dear susan's trusted friend - my blog is mine, I write what I want and what I need to and it's my safe place - become another
Ellen I looked and looked for your number...to call on Christmas Day.
What can I say...Help I get to rymeing and can't stop.
Books stacked everywhere, papers too, where is that number ^%$$# to blog will have to do...for now.
Smile.
Call me!
Tonight I going to the movies. It snowed again, everything is so beautiful. Redheaded woodpeckers as big as crows are outside my window, along with the smaller flickers, chickadees, titmice.
When I drove up the moutain top to my friends house, Jim was standing there with a big bird feeder he had made. My Christmas present was just what I had ask Santa for. It's wonderful to live in a county where wishes do come true.
I hope your Christmas was as wonderful as mine.
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