We watch the weather and comment about its ferocity or lack of it thereof. We put labels on it that pertain to what we want to do outside of our homes during that time or how comfortable we are living with what the Sacred Earth Mother hath given us.
This morning, I’m up early and waiting for the sky to lighten. My view is to the Southeast and the faintest light will start to peek from that direction soon. Yesterday, it was a pinkish orange and blue. The sun was evident, but hidden behind a few low clouds. Cold, just 5 degrees fahrenheit.
This morning, at this early hour before daylight, the longest period of darkness this year is punctuated by an outside temperature of 10 degrees. The high will be 19 with partly sunny skies and a light wind out of the North. There is snow covering the ground.
I sit here, inside, and can’t hear the furnace keeping the house at an even 68 degrees. It is efficient, as compared to the older energy sucking appliances of the past. My use of natural gas has lowered considerably since we installed the new furnace in 2010. I think I could go outside and start a fire in the back yard fire pit, but I don’t have the drive to do so. Yet if I were to act on this ‘feeling’, I certainly can see and imagine the warmth as I sat there staring into the flames.
Sure, there is the fireplace in the living room. That wouldn’t take getting dressed and would still emanate heat and sooth the soul with the gazing I would do. It would be a meeting place where any family members that were to hear it and desire to do so, would share it. I see a strong cup of coffee in my future as I sit there.
The rest of my day will be to make one more batch of Italian bakery to serve at our Christmas table. I will do some prepping for other dishes I will serve tomorrow when the family comes over en masse.
That’s how we do it here at Spadoville. A table full of food, seasonable delicacies, that we all share only at Christmas or other special occasions. These foods have meaning to our family gatherings and evoke special memories and feelings.
I love to cook for friends and family, be it Christmas or any other celebration. This year, I am remembering my Mother the most, how I used to help her prepare, especially in her later years when she had a harder time of wielding the heavy pots and pans around the kitchen. I want to make things that she provided when she was here with us. Baccala’, Aglio et olio pasta, crostoli and cannoli.
I’ll have my work cut out for me tomorrow morning as I cook. I’ll do the preparation today, chopping and making sure the large pots and pans are clean, all the ingredients are on hand and everything is ready to go.
After Christmas Eve, it’s all over. We’ll eat left overs and hope that someone comes over to eat some of the cookies, washed down with a cup or two of Steve’s great Smokey Double Dark Coffee. There are no guests expected Christmas Day, and we don’t have plans to go anywhere. Our daughters have plans of their own.
Anyway, that’s all that’s on my mind. I’m in a slump of sorts with telling stories, but I did want to check in and say to all of you, Merry Christmas.