My friend My friend Jen is one of the most energetic and vibrant people on the planet. She taught me chemistry and quantum physics at Adventure Quest ten years ago. Her husband, Rob, was the head of school, and together we traveled to...oh what was it....seven different countries together. Whenever I have kids of my own, I'll be begging them for parenting advice, because their four year old twins are the sweetest, happiest little girls I've ever met. I wish I could have them living in my kitchen permanently, like little elves, running around in tiny, heart-printed fleece pants, drinking hot chocolate and climbing onto my lap to read Christmas books. And they were very instrumental in the creation of butter horns...these rolled out cookies with a chopped date and walnut filling. They're really good. God this writing is terrible. I guess I don't care right now.
Winter light on the upper field. For two days, snow fell and whirled around like little diamonds, hard glitter that accumulated in four squeaking inches on the ground. The air is frosty and pure and scours your lungs when you breath, your exhaustion vanishes instantly. The land revitalizes you.
After crunching around the trails until after sunset, you head for home and find the windows of the upper house lit up in the most cheerful way. But careful- to go inside means accepting a challenge. You will be offered a cup of winter ale, eggnog, white wine, spiced rum, cider and tea- and you must drink all of it. You may end up being horrendously ill afterward. This is the risk you take with what we refer to as Extreme Festive Activities.
Zach visited! Our friend who was once a New England transplant living in Seattle...but who now lives in New York City, so far away from us.
And Fozz came for a visit- our newest Christmas tradition. This is the third year that he's driven up from Boston to partake in the spectacle that is Christmas on the Hill. He spent a few days here and my sister and I fight like fifteen year olds the whole time and kept offering him chocolate, which he's allergic to....but Fozz keeps coming back. And every time he brings a giant bottle of rum, and I drink some of it disguised in eggnog and end up yelling at him a lot. But we do treat him to a lot food, and sledding, and dogs, and a fire, and lots and lots of scrabble so....it might even out.
Yes! In writing this it has officially turned into Christmas. I'll leave you with this, my dog, a most rugged, bad-ass creature, who has swum rapids and scaled peaks. Here she is, taking a Christmas nap. Merry Christmas everyone!