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     The beast is the year old 170 pound mastiff that rules our house.  Usually he is a relaxed, laid back wuss.  He will lie down on your feet or sit regally with his back to you if he wants attention.  He tolerates any torture the 65 pound german shepherd metes out to him, she being the more active of the two dogs.
     He will let you take anything away from him in the house, allow you to pull his tail, play with his toes, check his teeth, tug or clean his ears, all without so much as a scowl.  My eldest was amazed when I reached into his huge mouth with my whole hand to remove something he had picked up from the floor that shouldn’t be eaten.
     A few months ago, while visiting the doggie park, we discovered a horse ball, a hard plastic ball about 10″ in diameter.  This ball can’t be picked up even in his mouth and the other dogs at the park showed no interest in it.  Ranger, the beast, had found his favorite plaything, he swatted it with his front feet, pushed it with his nose and for all the world looked like he was playing soccer.  This amused everyone there with their dogs and many smartphones came out on video mode.  Each time we visited the park, he went straight for the ball and soon decided it was his, giving a warning half hearted growl if any other dogs tried to take it from him.  As we live on 30 acres of mostly grassland, we ordered one online and will toss it out for him to play with occasionally.  Unfortunately, our land slopes down toward the south and eventually the ball would end up at the other end of the property with Ranger unable to bring it back to the house.
      After a while, he realized he could push it uphill to some extent and so the ball on occasion ended up under a fence on the south or west sides of our land.  It only took one try to learn that he would not let us retrieve the ball nor carry it back to the house without him leaping to try to knock it from our hands, impeding our forward progress, so we started carrying a canvas grocery sack with us to “hide” the ball in order to bring it home.  He is fun to watch with the ball, but more training on “leave it” is in order before I go after the ball again.

      This holiday season gave us the full specter of experience.  Our oldest son and his family arrived a few days before Christmas and spent several days with us, sharing a Christmas eve dinner of a huge 25 plus pound turkey with all of the fixings with us and several neighbors.  A good meal, good companionship, good time.  After hubby’s favorite breakfast, stockings and gift opening, they were off to the eastern part of the state to share the next few days with our grandson’s other grandparents.
     The day they arrived, we purchased a brand new soft car top carrier to aid our trip that was to follow.  The carrier was loaded with gifts, wrapped, boxed and sealed, I thought in plastic bags, the dogs food and a few other items sealed in giant zip lock bags.  The car was loaded with more gifts, suitcases and the two pups, who now weight in at about 170 pounds and 65 pounds, taking up a good portion of the space behind the front seats of hubby’s Xterra.  We set out on the 26th to the eastern side of the state to see our youngest son and his family.  This trip proved to be quite taxing as the weather was not cooperative, driving in snow, sleet, freezing rain, with several inches of slush on the interstate.  We saw dozens of cars that had spun out, some harmlessly, some ripping off car parts, most facing the wrong way on the shoulder or in the median.  Several vehicles suffered worse fates and were on their side or upside down, leaving us hoping that the drivers and passengers fared better than their cars.  The last couple of hours of the trip were in driving rain.  After checking in to our hotel, I went to move the gifts into the car for the night, only to find that the carrier had about a gallon of water inside the bag, the bag of gifts had leaked, damaging packaging on several and ruining one gift.  In spite of this, we had a nice visit with the kids, went out to dinner with them and our oldest son and grandson as they were in the same city and hubby even went bowling with them while I babysat the dogs in the hotel.

     The following day, we awoke to a chilly, but beautiful day, walked the pups on the boardwalk then loaded them into the car for two long days driving to visit our daughter and her family in Florida.  We arrived  on the 28th to celebrate Christmas with them just in time for hubby to come down with the flu.  He spent most of the few days we were there in a room alone, me sleeping on the couch hoping not to catch it from him.  The day before we left, he ended up at an Urgent Care center to be treated for a sinus infection.  We left Florida a day early, still hoping that neither our daughter’s family, nor I would be infected.  By the time we reached South Carolina on the way home, I was achy and coughing, went to bed as soon as we got to the hotel and have spent the past few days mostly sleeping and coughing.  We heard from our daughter, that her husband came down with it too.
     The icing to this was the information that my Honda, which we had loaned to our oldest son needed a new catalytic converter.  Though he is having to deal with getting it repaired, the cost is on us.  The poor little CRV is 8 years old and has almost 130,000 miles on it.  I love the car, but it may be reaching the end of its repair free life.

     My family was strong on traditions, many were continued, amended, new ones added as we had our own family and they grew to adults.  Each season had it’s own.
     At Christmas time, we gathered on Christmas eve with extended family at my Dad’s home, our home, or my brother’s home for Christmas Dinner.  Dinner traditionally was a repeat of the Thanksgiving with the addition of some Smithfield cured ham.  Often, our table included one or more “strays.”  Over the years, the extra folks have included friends of one of the children who for various reasons could not return to their home state or country, or an immigrant family that was attending my parent’s church.
      Once we had children of our own, each Christmas Eve ended with hubby reading “The Night Before Christmas” to the kids. 
     Christmas morning the children were not allowed downstairs until the tree lights were on and one of us had checked to make sure that Santa had come, stockings dumped, a big breakfast, and gift opening in our own home.  We would put out turkey and ham, cookies, condiments, rolls, eggnog and other beverages and my husband’s family would come over for gift exchange.  Early in our family life, we sometimes had his parents staying with us, his sister and her family, my Dad and Mom, my brother and his family and until my sister moved out of state, her family too would come to our home on Christmas Day, sometimes in shifts and once when our home was much too small, all at one.  This one sent my husband and me separately but at the same time into the utility room, where both of us looked at each other, opened our mouths and created the “silent primal scream.”  Giggled at the stress relief and rejoined the love of the group.
     Now our kids are scattered with their families, our eldest and his family are here this year, and we will have the traditional turkey dinner tonight, including a young adult neighbor who is alone this year, and a neighbor couple with no kids at home.  “The Night Before Christmas” will be read to grandchildren that are not here by phone (I really think it is for our daughter).
     Tomorrow we will dump stockings, have the traditional big breakfast and gift exchange before son and his family drive across the state so that eldest grandson can also share Christmas with his other grands.  And now we are the grandparents, so we will travel to visit our other two children and their kids in their homes over the next few days.

     Today is tree day for us, much later than usual and it means such a short time to enjoy it, but thus it is.  Today dawned cold and gray, rain forecast this afternoon, snow tonight and tomorrow.   The house prepared, the carpet vacuumed, we properly bundled up for a trek on the local tree farm hill sides to pick the right one to adorn the house this year.  Our first choice tree farm had no one there at 10 o’clock and no hours posted, so we drove about 6 miles to the other local farm to find a delightful gift shop and trees of all sizes and shapes from which to chose.

This one?  No too small.  How about that one?  No too tall.

    Finally we found just the right tree for this year, maybe 7 to 8 feet.  Got it cut and loaded on the car, bought some local beef from the shop and a couple of last minute gifts and home to unload it.  Arriving home, we found, not just Ferdinand, but 6 of his harem, happily grazing in our yard with one young cow almost off our property and up on the road.  A bit of herding them deeper into our property was in order, until we could call the owner to alert them.

Wish they were ours, but still not sufficient fencing to keep them in, but then again, the owner can’t keep them in either.

     The tree was unloaded and put in water while we ran some errands in town, leaving it to drink its fill while standing on the porch.

     The neighbors, were repairing the fence again and rounding up their herd when we returned home, so no kebobs on the hoof left.  The tree was brought in and put in its stand with more water and the branches freed from the twine and allowed to fall back in shape.

     In late September, 2007, I moved into our brand new, still not quite finished home, with half of our furniture and our eldest son and his family.  Hubby had remained behind in Virginia Beach with our youngest son and the other half of our furniture while the house of being completed and to wind down his practice.
     We settled into a routine of my son and his mate, working on the house, completing the upper kitchen cabinets and the interior doors and I left for work each day, sometimes babysitting their then little one so they could visit friends or work together on a project for the house that required two adults without the help of a toddler.
     Before we knew it, it was December, our first in the new house, hubby was coming up with youngest son, daughter had said she and her 11 month old would try to come up from Florida, the whole crew with kids for our celebration.  That meant decorating, which I always have taken to the max at Christmas.  Out came all the Santa collection, up went wreaths, fresh garland was purchased by the yard for the loft and stair railings and I wanted a real tree, a substantial tree.  After all, we had a cathedral ceiling with heavy timber support at the ceiling of our log home and only half the living room furniture, so there definitely was room.  Eldest son went with me into town to look for a fresh cut tree.  At that point, I didn’t know that there were two tree farms just miles from our house, but we knew of a lot in town run by one of the local farms that sells produce at the Farmer’s Market.  As soon as we drove into the lot, I turned to son and said, “I want that one!”  He looked incredulously at me and said, “Mom, are you sure?”  I couldn’t be more sure, it was perfect, full and at least 10 feet tall.  Son shrugged and said, “OK, I’ll help.”  
     Tree was paid for and with the help of the lot attendant, we tied it on the top of my CRV with the garland in the trunk and headed home.  The tree was so full, that even tied, it barely came through the front door.  Three of us struggled to get it upright in the stand, securely so it wouldn’t topple.  The decorations that had adorned our 7 footers for years, looked sparse, but wonderful. 

      There have been subsequent trees, some live and root balled, later planted in the yard, some cut, but none quite as generous as that one.
      This year, the house is decorated with Santas, wreaths, but so far, no tree.  Between illness, dealing with two pups, one of which will be terrified once the tree is up, helping a neighbor try to repair the bull neighbor’s fence to keep Ferdinand off our property, we just haven’t gotten around to the tree yet.  The house just doesn’t look complete yet.  Eldest son and family will be here Saturday, so we best get on it, I think tomorrow is tree day and though we won’t have the whole crew here this year, we will see all of our children and grandchildren on or within a few days of Christmas.

The overnight front has the clouds breaking and scuttering away to the south east.  That is the ridge you couldn’t see yesterday.

     The morning is bleak, the sun didn’t lighten the sky until well past 7, in part because we are approaching the shortest day of the year and in part because we are on our third day of much needed rain and the sky is heavy with thick gray clouds and the oft presented morning fog.

The ridge beyond is hidden this morning.

Though I don’t truly suffer from SAD,  the short days, long nights, and the heavy overcast sky are depressing.  I look forward to the Solstice, knowing that with each suceeding day, the ratio of light to dark increases in the favor of light.  I am sure that I would never be able to live in Alaska, though I would like to visit, as the extended period of dark would likely require me to be medicated and in counseling to survive those months and the period of light would be equally irritating as I don’t sleep well in light and don’t like my sleeping room tightly curtained.  Perhaps I would have done well when the families bedded for the night shortly after full dark, to conserve the candles or lamp oil and rose with the sun to begin the day’s chores.  In retirement, there is little heed to the clock unless we have an appointment or a plane to catch, I rise with the sun’s lightening of the morning sky, we eat when we are hungry, and though we have the conveniences of modern electricity and lights on our little farm, I am ready for bed early each winter night.

     The first time I was consciously aware of a child dying was as a young adult and the child of family from church died of illness.  Though I didn’t know the child nor even the adults very well, I cried.  As a new parent myself, the thought of losing a child was incomprehensible, children buried their parents, not parents burying a child.
     Over the years as a school counselor, I was faced with entirely too many incidents of a child dying in a car accident, by suicide or illness, dealing with the grief of a few or huge groups of adults and students who had taught or been friends with the young person lost.
     Living and then working near Blackburg, I was part of the grief support team after the mass shooting at Virginia Tech, then shortly after a murder of one of our students and her mother by an acquaintance of them.
     None of these experiences has made it any easier to deal with Connecticut’s tragedy, for a community of families to have lost so many children makes my heart ache.  I have cried for them and my heart goes out to the community and the families who lost a child or have a child that was fortunate enough to survive yesterday’s tragedy and will have to learn to live with the trauma that they experienced.
     I hope the media will quickly leave them alone and let them heal.

     Christmas knitting progresses, fortunately fairly quickly.    Daughter by love will get mittens and a slouchy beret to help keep her warm as she walks to and from the Metro between home and classes on two campuses.

The mittens are a basic vanilla mitten pattern with Paton’s Classic Wool, Harvest colorway with a crocheted shell pattern at the top of the cuff.  The Stripey Slouchy Beret is the same yarn with the alternate stripes of a solid brown Paton’s Classic Wool.  The photos do not do justice to the colors of the set, nor do they look like they match, which they do beautifully.

     Eldest son is also a lover of Mom’s handknits and he will get a Pepper and Wine hat to go with his black overcoat as he also is a student and walking to and from the Metro bus to campus.

     The last project is the most difficult for me and may or may not actually get finished before it is hand delivered to our daughter several days after Christmas.  As a late teen/young adult, she had a lacy mesh black sweater that she wore over camisoles.  Now living in Florida, she wants a similar sweater for the rare cool days or evenings.  As the original sweater was a store purchase and is long gone from her wardrobe, all I have to go by is a dark photo of her wearing the sweater, standing in front of a dark, very busy background.  I have started the sweater 3 times, the first attempt of a saddle shoulder sweater, quickly messed with the lacy pattern.  Try two is a better choice of a pattern, but after about 6 inches of knitting, I realized the lacy was too bulky looking, even though I am using sport weight wool on size 9 needles, so again it was frogged and restarted with a simpler, lighter lace.  As the yarn is black and my arthritis makes using larger needles difficult except in short stints, I am plodding along on it between other projects.  It will get done, but maybe not by the time we get to her house.

      Yesterday was spring like.  We resumed our riding lessons after a three week hiatus first due to family visiting, then a couple of weeks of the crud.  Though we are both still coughing, we are feeling better.  Our energy levels are still low, we must work on that as we have two ski trips pending after the first of the year.  One we fear might end up being a condo stay with 18 strangers with little or no snow as it is in West Virginia and it has been as warm there as here.  The other is in Colorado and the reports from there are positive.
     A little at a time, Christmas shopping is being done and wrapped as purchased or made.  The house is decorated, though we still need a tree.
    Knitting has resumed, a Florida weight sweater for daughter, her request is lace in black yarn, not my preference, but it is progressing.  Mittens for our daughter by love and a hat our son.

     The spinning wheel has been active also.  I spun and plied 346 yards of light fingering weight merino and silk blend that is gorgeous.  So far, I haven’t decided what it will become, but I’m thinking about Flip Mitts or a scarf for next year’s Christmas gift stash.  It would be awesome to make all of next year’s hand knits from handspun yarn.

     Yesterday was rainy and last night the wind whipped up as a front rolled through, this morning it is winter again with mountain snow flurries blowing around.  Perhaps we may actually have winter this year.