Last year, we shared Christmas Day with my sister's brood, for the first time in many years. Traditional lunch, with all the trimmings in an idyllic country cottage and then watching Frozen with her Grandchildren. My nephew brought along his Husky puppy. Our Mum fell asleep by the roaring fire. It was a perfect day. One to remember and to treasure forever.
After I divorced, Christmas became a shared out event. The children usually spent Christmas Day with me and then a few days with their father's family. I would work over what is now known as Twixmas. It staved off the emptiness in my home and allowed me to save extra leave for days when they might be off school poorly. It was a practical solution.
One year we had snow on Christmas Day: A rarity in Blackpool, noted for wet windy winters. There are a few trees in my garden; a tall sycamore, an old apple and a hawthorn that was still heavily laden with berries. As we were pulling our crackers, I saw a Great Spotted Woodpecker sitting in the apple tree. A most prestigious event.
We usually have a fine gathering of birds over the winter months; blue tits, great tits, chaffinches, robins and blackbirds, (I pile up all the windfall apples and they feast on them). I love to see groups of tiny long-tailed tits arrive. They each weigh only half an once and roost together in a large fluffy ball to keep warm, tails hanging downwards. In really cold weather, birds of different species, (even usually territorial birds), will all huddle together in a warm,dry, south-facing nest box. The mere thought of such a convivial gathering makes me happy.
A Winter’s Tail
On a bright and bluish Boxing Day, the house is quiet,
the children away.
I am sitting alone
in the peace and the calm, my face to the window, reflected warm. I gaze to the garden, through frosted glass, my thoughts drift off
and tears stream down
for time long lost, for love that passed.
Then I stop to peer at a flash of light, of green and yellow, birds in flight, with soft black caps and bold striped chest. The acrobats are back to their nest.
Dashing and dancing from limb to limb of the apple tree, with its mouldy trim. Swinging from string on the coconut to taste sweet suet and butternut.
Such delight to my wondering eyes appears, it makes my smile reach to my ears. Have a wonderful Christmas everyone. Thanks for reading. Adele Email ThisBlogThis!Share to TwitterShare to Facebook
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