Winter sweet-taste
Christmas pine-scent
Fall Royal-robe
spent
Fresh-holiday
draped-white
New
Year-celebration delight
January-stark
sun barren-bold
North
wind-whistle icy-cold
Sculpted-crystal
scoured-fields
Granary-busting
harvest-yields
Myriad-colored
woolen scarfs---nice
Clickety-Clack skate-blades fly ice
Cerulean-deep
faux-sun frozen
Charlatan-warmth
image-chosen
Dad’s snow-sled
slope-careening
Icicle-snowmen
chatter-screaming
Comfort-warm
embrace hearth-blazing
¼ lb.-cookie,
hot-chocolate Love-amazing
House-eves vacant-howl
freezing-tremblings
Tug goose-down comforter,
igloo-rememberings
Midnight-dreams
scamper hope-images soon
Wishes-wild on magic
alabaster-pale full-moon
Horizon-yonder
dawn sparkle filigree frost-glass
Wafts yon breakfast-flavor
kitchen-warm lad-lass
Snow-tracks
reach the barn to hay-the-stock awaiting
“Woolies”-itch
afore the fire-warm, celestial-satiating
Don
layer-clothes, hat, mittens, boots; brave another gift
Black-white
daguerreotype bas-relief imagery
stark-rift
Enjoy-smile
Robins-red on crowded bud-reticent melodious-sing
Winter-white
recedes–northward ushering emerald-green Spring
Amen!
Plus:
Christmas Blessed!
Dark night dawn blazed light of
day
Newborn babe rough manger lay
Virgin-Mother adore our King
Celestial choir, angelic sing
Miracle to this world wonder
Jesus birth in shelter yonder
God’s true love millennium
Praise and honor, glorify Him
Mist transcend sweet morning dew
Escort sky cerulean blue
Blanket beauty snow soft white
Pure, perfect time eternal sight
All that’s good, God’s grace
bestow
Gifts, mankind, help spiritually
grow
Celebrate life, Father, Son and
Spirit
Sweet earth beckon, listen, hear
it
Invite holy Christ-child, royal
guest
Each cherished life, He Christmas
Blessed!
Amen!
Merry Christmas
Christmas “Presence”!
Serendipity! Memorable events,
adventures well worth savoring from life’s daily episodes, very often happen
that way…completely by accident, stumbled upon while searching for some other
necessity, another treasure, a better conclusion. An accident? So it seems, as
we accept the coincidence in order for the “un”-commonplace to be easily
explained away. Perhaps?
Absently, I nearly walked right past
him. Preoccupied, I was, as usual with important matters, some crisis or
another to resolve. In my periphery, just another person, an impediment to
detour. Just one more annoyance, a someone or a something in my path as I
strolled along the coast overlook some fifty feet above the resplendent blue
Pacific, mentally searching for “the” answer to some monumental imperative;
though, now, I cannot recall what that troubling issue might have been. He paid
me no mind, either; of course, I deserved that non-response. Touché!
Maybe it was the faded light tan
fishing-type hat, or the silver hair, or the crystal clear blue eyes…I’m not
sure what, exactly, but some inner alert caused me to consider him. Then, it
hit me. Reminders and recollections of my grandfathers, both now gone, gave me
pause to invest a moment of such fleeting valuable time to look again. Forever
since, I’m blessed that I did so.
Resting his forearms on the top fence
rail erected at the very edge of the cliff high above the placid ocean, his
attentive eyes surveyed the distant horizon as white foam from the lulling surf
gently caressed the glistening shore while a warm sun charmed the serene
setting. Walking near, I intruded into his aura and chanced a pleasant
greeting, unsure of the hoped for response I might receive. Immediately, my misgivings
were trumped; here was pure gentleman of the elder class.
A polite conversation ensued; one sided,
as the old man taught and I listened---and…learned.
“Decades ago, Christmas was the very
best time of year for me. Being a child, life seemed simple enough. The aroma
of lovingly prepared dinner, tree lights, laughter, love, family, the very
emotional feelings of Christmas…these were well worth a year long wait. And,
the presents were most important, too. After all these years, a lifetime, at
last, I fully begin to understand.
“I spend a great deal of time here, now;
alone. I’m an old man; no one has time for old men, anymore. Nature, she’s my
friend. Never asks anything of me; she’s just always there when I show up.
Quiet, peaceful, providing beauty---ocean, sky, clouds, wind, birds. It’s that
same feeling of Christmas I experienced as a child…happiness. Harmony among
people expressed in thought and word and deed---the very essence of love. I
think of how important presents appeared to be, then; I know now life’s
quintessence is, indeed: Christmas ‘Presence!’” Amen!
He smiled kindly, nodded a silent
salute, meandered off and left me there, alone; to ponder.
I experienced the ocean’s peace for a
time, then, as I considered the truth he had imparted.
If our paths happen to cross in some
“tomorrow”-time, you’ll recognize me.
I’ll be the blue-eyed stranger who
politely smiles and says, “Bon jour! Mon Amie!”
Merry Christmas!
Plus:
Day 351
Fireside Inn in
Yachats (pronounced: Yack ats) Ha! Ha!
We
vacationed in beautiful Oregon one fine summer; I fell in love all over, again.
Miss
Colorado and the great Rocky Mountains had owned my capricious-heart for many
years; after visiting the seductive charms of the Great Northwest, she has
owned that heart.
We
stumbled upon a motel on the coast called the Fireside Inn in a quaint little
berg name of “Yahats”, An Indian word pronounced “Ya-hots”. Lady Candy pronounced it “Yackats”! Well! None of us
spoke any “Native-American”. Hmm!? Live and learn! I reckon! A stunning venue!
The
mighty blue Pacific rolled white-crested waves against the basalt rock
outcroppings comprising the coast at Yachats; the surf comes crashing in,
assaulting the black edifice with thunderous cadenced blasts. The basalt split
into miniature canyons within the rock structure; here the waves were
compressed like an inverse funnel ending in a “V” where the restricted water
volume explodes in a mini-geyser shooting white-spray 20 feet into the air. Inspiring!
Yachats
ranks high on our list of favorite vistas along the 400+ mile coastline of a
fine lady.
We
explored the entire coast, the Coast Mountains, Cascade Range and Willamette
valley between the two, Crater Lake and Brookings near the California border.
East high plains is a world unto itself and the Columbia River Valley from the
Pacific to Idaho is a great adventure.
Trekking
northward from Portland through Washington state unfolds beautiful Canada’s
British Columbia where the traveler boards the BC Ferry to be transported
through the fantastic San Juan Islands, emerald jewels displayed in an indigo
sea to a destination at Victoria, BC.
Daughter
Beth did her first two years of law studies at Willamette University School of
Law; her final term was completed at Vanderbilt University in the city of my
birth, Nashville, Tennessee, as a visiting student. We returned to Salem for
her commencement.
Z.
Tyler, age 5, sported a brand new white suit for the festivities; a mountain
stream dissects the campus and our young man promptly stepped off the sidewalk
into the river, 8” deep.
We
dried him and went to the entrance ramp to the stadium where the exercises were
being held. As I held the “little”-man’s hand slowly climbing the steps in a
crowd of myriad people milling together in the packed passageway, I couldn’t
help but notice the attractive little fox directly in front of us and the
mid-thigh skirt displaying her silky-assets; quite a “Hottie!” I reckon I was a bit younger in those days and took
special notice of such offerings---Hell!...I’m
no spring chicken now, but I still take notice.
Suddenly,
“Vixen” turned toward me and my little “pal,” giving me a curious glare. Then,
I noticed my “little”-man’s other hand under the hem of that enticing material-venue
and climbing northward. Uh! Oh! Embarrassed, I quickly pulled him in a manner
so as to dislodge his exploring hand; then, I got a curious look from Z. Tyler
like: “What?”
She
said not a word; whether she was insulted I couldn’t tell; I got neither
slapped nor a phone number. I could have explained that Z. Tyler just loved stockings;
when we went on shopping sprees to Meier & Frank department store he
delighted in sitting beside the mannequins modeling silky stockings on sexy-shapely
molded legs. That boy might just very well be my clone---only, with a healthy
dose of…enviable Cool!
Ah! Cookie Jar Sweet “Sexy-stockings fantasy!?”
Memories!
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