A Garland of Pure Light: Christmas

When everyone had gone
And the garland of pure light
Stayed on, stayed on. - May Sarton






















Christmas eve with all the trimmings and so much magical anticipation in the air.  The sky north grew inky and there was a short flurry.  The boy reached for his compass and confirmed the direction.  "It must be from the north pole", he declared.

Meanwhile in the warmth of our nest (missed, but not forgotten) our ancestors smiled upon us from within the ornaments that we made to honor them.

Satch ran down to the studio remembering the clay feather that he made the week before and left to dry on the work table.  He strung it on a piece of twine and hung it upon our tree.

Our ornaments, mostly handmade, hold so much meaning for us...



















and memories too.  (Below: the shoes from my childhood doll)

  





















This year we added a felted heart from a new friend.

 





















Beautiful feathers that we found on hikes.

Fallen nests that we collected and preserved.

Santa arrived sometime in the night.  Not a creature was stirring.

In the morning, Christmas joy was caught in a reflection.

 

The boys presented me with a mysterious set of drawers filled with chocolate and some books to read during long winter nights.

 

Later, the kings of all wild things donned their holiday party crowns and lounged all day long...