Green holly and red berries are a holiday icon. Charlie’s cousin and his family sent us a small holly tree — a tabletop tree, it says — as a housewarming/Christmas gift. Tonight I noticed the tiny white flowers, almost an afterthought to the brilliant red berries. And I’m grateful for the reminder that the best things in life aren’t always the brightest, flashiest, most eye-catching things. Sometimes, more often than not, they’re made up of quiet moments and simple gifts, absolutely gorgeous in their minimalist ways. Let the season of excess fade away and the season of simplicity take center stage.
Long time, no gratitude? Not really, but thank you for allowing a brief respite while I packed, moved from one house to another, and now begin the arduous task of settling into a new location, a new home, a new view. Today, so grateful to wake up to a rain-washed landscape. Something about today’s brightening sky, the smell of clean, rain-kissed earth, and a serene view refreshes during unsettled times.
Although what I see in the daytime is that Rudolph appears to have met with an untimely accident on the roof of this house, what I see at night is a colorful celebration of the joy of this season. Today (and tonight), I am grateful for the pleasure it gives people to decorate and celebrate such a festive time of year, even if Rudolph has to sleep it off during the day.
Whose face, I wonder, served as the model for this statue? Even cast from concrete, somewhere at its inception, a face prompted its creation. Though it still stands amid a riot of hostas and wisteria that regenerate year after year thanks to the nourishing rain and the cycle of seasons, it fares poorly with each passing year. Grateful for this stark reminder that cycles, change, and impermanence govern us all.