A little girl from Christmas past–our daughter at age two in December 2000.
Wishing you and your family a Christmas full of love and joy!
On Christmas Eve Especially, That Light in the Darkness
This Christmas Eve here in Virginia dawned gray and rainy, as it did along most of the east coast. According to the weather forecast, the day will remain gray and rainy. The heaviest rain is likely to coincide with our church’s live outdoor nativity. There may be thunderstorms.
At last year’s nativity, for the first time, our human participants, that motley, multi-aged crew of holy family, shepherds and kings, were joined by several four-legged friends. These included a burro, a sheep and a goat. Kiko found the burro quite fascinating. The burro ignored Kiko.
But best of all, there was Samson the camel. Samson surveyed the scene with a majestic air of intelligence and calm. He seemed to enjoy nuzzling his many appreciative fans. He and his mate Delilah, who had another engagement, live on a farm in rural Virginia. Samson’s handler appears with him in appropriately Biblical costume and beard.
We all hope bad weather won’t keep Samson away. I doubt it will; he’s a sturdy sort. Last year, he was unperturbed in the face of a frigid, persistent wind.
**********************************************************************
We know with absolute certainly that nothing can extinguish the true light of Christ that dawns in our dark world. It’s the flame that glows within us, if we let it, all our lives, illuminating our paths and those of others with whom we share the road.
I wrote about that light in the darkness several years ago in a Christmas Eve post. It continues to express my thoughts for the day, and it can be found here.
This Christmas Eve, may we feel the warmth of the miraculous light, and may we keep it burning.
Our Baby Elf
One holiday activity (and chance to go overboard) is no longer available to me. That’s dressing up my daughter in a Christmas costume and photographing her endlessly. Over the years, my mother had outfitted most of my dolls with Christmas dresses, coats, capes, and sometimes special hats. She was eager to transfer her efforts to our real-life baby doll when my daughter came along. For her first Christmas, Mama made her an elf outfit out of soft fleece. While D was, like many babies, often the contrarian, from the very beginning she was pleased to play dress-up and pose for the camera. Here, then, some photos from fifteen years ago, of our little Christmas elf, not quite twelve months old.
December 1999
To new parents, nothing says “Merry Christmas” like their baby decked out in holiday gear.
Christmas Spirit, or Holiday Excess?
Can we bring home the tree without first decorating the dog?
In years past, ideas for Christmas-themed posts flowed from me in abundance. I love the season, and I found so much to write about. This year, the fountain dried up. Seemed I’d exhausted all possibilities. I’d written about the annual ornament-making marathons Mama and I undertook during my childhood, about how my daughter and I continued the tradition. Wrote about my long-lived gingerbread village, the little lights, the decorative oddities (that Devil Doll). Wrote about why we chose such ugly Christmas trees when I was very young. Wrote about decorating the dog, the tree stump. What else was there to say?
I thought inspiration would hit me as we decorated the house, a process that begins during the week of Thanksgiving. The idea is that we get everything looking beautiful and will then have a chance to enjoy it: the house aglow in the winter night, the festive greenery, red berries, all the reassuringly familiar trappings that make the season special. It shouldn’t be a bad thing to get an early start on Christmas. We do it in church, after all. Our “Hanging of the Greens” takes place on the fourth Sunday before Christmas. It begins the Advent season of the church year, when we are to prepare for the coming of Christ. While it’s a time to remember and honor Jesus’s historical birth, Christians are also to prepare for the ever-present possibility that He will come again in final glory.
But at our house, decorating early also means decorating longer, and it encourages excess. The five small artificial trees are up by early December. At mid-month, we buy our tall live tree. The table-top living room tree is moved into the family room. Work then begins on the new tree. Decorating it takes several days. We have many ornaments, and my daughter and I are sentimentally and/or compulsively attached to every single one, even those falling to pieces or unattractive. Those will go toward the back. We tend to make only minimal changes in our overall decorating scheme from year to year, because the atmosphere wouldn’t be as cozily homey if we did. That means there’s very little that’s worthy of comment.
This year, more than most, it seemed to me that in our preoccupation with readying our home ready for Christmas, we were getting off-track, missing the point completely. Are we preparing the house but neglecting our souls? That true light of Christ on earth, the light that shines in the darkness–is it at risk of suffocation with all the bright shiny synthetic stuff we heap around it? If Jesus were to appear today, would he cast an appreciative glance at our trio of alpine trees, or comment approvingly on our decision to use colored lights, instead of white, in the playroom? Would he be touched by our thoughtful arrangement of handmade mice around a sleigh full of miniature wrapped packages? Would he say, Well done, good and faithful servants! These beautifully stitched and whimsically arranged Christmas mice are a worthy commemoration of my birth! You have prepared well, and now I am here to take you home. I doubt it.
I also doubt He’d condemn us solely for going overboard on our decorating. The Jesus I’ve come to know has no interest in turning us into puritanical, humorless scolds. (Recall how hard he was on those self-righteous Pharisees.) He knows we’re fairly dim creatures who tend to lose their way. He remembers how his closest friends needed repeated explanations and still never quite understood. He’s patient with our foolishness. But we can’t fool him. He’s knows when we’re blocking out his holy light. Last Sunday our minister preached about how easy it is to crowd Christ right out of our Christmas. There was no room for the holy family in the inn so long ago. In much the same way, in all our holiday bustle and busyness we may leave no room for God’s love in our hearts. Even the best of us occasionally allow the secular to tarnish and threaten to overwhelm the sacred.
So what do we do? How do we make sure we’re not complicit in the darkness that threatens to overcome the light (but cannot, despite our ill will and sloth)? It’s hard to find better advice than this famous verse from Micah:
Do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with your God. (6:8b)
For me, this means not getting too comfortable in our world of materialism and easy excess. Have I been going overboard on gifts for those who already have way too much stuff? Am I neglecting those who have very little? Is there something I can do for a friend, a neighbor, or a stranger that might make a big difference? I need to give where it matters, volunteer where I’m needed. Every day there are chances to show love and compassion. Am I ignoring those opportunities? If I follow through, I’ll do my part to keep the pure light of Christ alive and shining in the world. I’ll try. I’ll drift off the path sometimes, but with God’s help, I won’t wander too far away.
Thanksgiving 2014
Unlike those stranded at airports and braving icy roads across the country, my daughter is thankful for the nor’easter that brought snow for Thanksgiving. It’s the earliest snowfall I can remember here in the Northern Virginia area. I can’t say I like the precedent it seems to be setting.
Kiko evidently forgot that he used to enjoy snow. He seemed to associate it with the possibility of thunder. Once the flakes began falling, he shadowed my every step. He kept his ears back at an unflattering angle, listening for menacing booms, his only fear in the world.
Kiko and I are thankful that the snow system has moved well past us on this Thanksgiving day. The sun is shining on the snow that remains, and the threat of thunder has disappeared.
To you and your family, I wish a safe, happy Thanksgiving, enjoyed with family and friends. May we all count our blessings!
Fall Color: The Final Days
It’s a mild but gray day today here in Northern Virginia. Some mixture of snow and rain is predicted for tomorrow. It’s as good a time as any to pay homage to fall’s jewel box colors, soon to be washed away. What a beautiful season it’s been.
Kiko and I took our morning walks through landscapes of green and gold.
On a recent foggy morning, this multicolored maple seemed to be lit from within.
Until a day or so ago, our Japanese maples blazed with a glorious red intensity.
Not to be outdone, other maples put on leaves of golden sunshine.
This ginkgo’s canopy of yellow has become a carpet of yellow, perhaps equally lovely.
My daughter, an inveterate leaf-tosser, celebrates the season amidst the fallen leaves of a sugar maple outside our church.
Kiko, basking in the November sun, is content to model a cap of pine straw.
Enjoy these final days of fall color! We may be in for an icy white winter!
Stuffed Acorn Squash
Wild Trumpet Vine is no food blog, and I’m no foodie. But I do cook regularly, and my family generally appreciates my efforts. My squash-hating husband had a business dinner the other night, so it seemed like a good opportunity to cook the acorn squash the squirrels had provided. It turned out well, and I think it merits a post.
Like my husband, I used to have a squash aversion. Growing up, winter squash was rarely served at our family table. Sautéed zucchini and yellow summer squash with onions and tomatoes was a summer stand-by, but we tended to view the winter varieties as purely decorative. Unseasoned, unsalted squash was a a staple, though, at a friend’s house. Every time I stayed for dinner, it seemed, it was on the menu. Knowing it wasn’t my favorite, my friend enjoyed squirting the mushy stuff between the gap in her teeth, pre-braces.
It’s not surprising, then, that with the exception of butternut squash for soup, I’ve avoided most of the cold-weather varieties. Until earlier this fall, I had never cooked acorn squash, nor even considered cooking it. Now I know what I’ve been missing. It’s a far remove from the bland, gooey stuff I recall from childhood. One acorn squash, sliced in half and baked, yields two perfect, scallop-edged, edible bowls that beg for some sort of filling.
Here’s how I cooked that squash:
I trimmed the ends to create a level surface, then sliced the squash in half. I drizzled the halves with olive oil, and seasoned them with salt and pepper. I put them in a glass baking dish and added about an inch of water to the bottom. I cooked the squash in a preheated oven at 400 degrees for about 50 minutes.
While the squash was cooking, I made a simple stuffing, using what we had on hand. In a cast-iron skillet, I sautéed an onion in olive oil until not quite caramelized. I added baby bella mushrooms and bell pepper, chopped. A further exploration of the crisper drawer yielded one last zucchini and some flat-leaf parsley. I chopped and added these. For a bit of filler, I rustled up some bread crumbs from a toasted hot dog bun. (We were otherwise out of bread.) I added a little chicken broth, some sage and ground pepper and let it all simmer until the squash was done. Just before serving, I filled the squash with the stuffing mixture.
My daughter, a more adventurous eater than her father, appreciated the look and taste of the squash and its stuffing. We both enjoyed the attractive practicality of the edible bowl. It’s a remedy for erasing decades of bad squash memories. I’d like to say it might even work for my husband. But that might be going a bit too far.
Thanks again, squirrels!
What the Squirrels Planted
After Halloween each year, we set our jack-o’-lanterns out under the maple trees in the front yard as treats for local wildlife. We enjoy watching as the deer and squirrels make short work of them. Last year, once Thanksgiving had passed, we also offered various small pumpkins, gourds and squash, which the squirrels had been nibbling at, uninvited, since early October.
By mid-July, fuzzy, big-leaved vines with yellow blossoms were popping up throughout our flower beds. The squirrels, it seemed, had planted several varieties of squash.
As farmers, the squirrels took a carpe diem attitude, eating most of the buds as soon as they appeared. The occasional tiny proto-pumpkin developed, only to be gobbled up quickly before it had a chance to grow. We couldn’t complain. The squirrels had done the sowing, so they were entitled to reap according to their whims.
One little pumpkin escaped their notice. A thick tangle of vines among our black-eyed susans sheltered a single dark green fluted globe. I checked on it regularly, expecting its color to turn to orange. It grew to just over softball-size and remained green. When I examined it more closely, I saw that it was an acorn squash. How fitting, considering it was planted by a squirrel.
When our furry little farmers continued to neglect the fruit of their labors, I claimed the acorn squash. My daughter and I will make a tasty fall meal of it soon. (My husband only eats squash under extreme duress.)
As a thank-you gift, the squirrels will soon receive our decorative gourds.
Veterans’ Day 2014
Thank you to those who are fighting, or have fought, our country’s battles for freedom and righteousness. Words are inadequate, your sacrifices immeasurable. On this Veterans’ Day and every day, you have our deep gratitude.
My father outside the Casserne in Regensburg, ca. 1947. Daddy served in the U.S. occupational forces following World War II.
My Uncle Bill, on the right, ca. 1945. My mother’s brother served as a frogman in the Philippines during World War II.
Halloween Update
This October, after some deliberation, my daughter decided that her trick-or-treating days were behind her. She’d had a good long run: fourteen Halloweens of neighborhood candy collecting. Last year a mother answering the door at one home had uttered that dreaded criticism: Aren’t you girls a little old for this? My daughter seethed inwardly at these words.
It bugged me, too, I have to admit. I’m quite happy, one night a year, to hand out treats to polite, costumed children and teenagers of all ages, shapes and sizes. Who outgrows a love of candy, anyway? It certainly doesn’t happen in my family. My eighty-something father begins buying Halloween goodies as soon as they appear in stores, usually around July 5th. He and Mama see it as their duty to make sure the Butterfingers, Snickers and Milky Ways are up to par for the kiddies. By the time Halloween rolls around, they are quality-control experts.
Nevertheless, there comes a time when the annual house-to-house trek becomes more of a slog than an adventure. As with most pleasures that we outgrow, one day we wake up and know in our bones: the payoff is no longer worth the trouble. Facing the truth can be painful, but not facing it tends to be more so.
Trick-or-treating, then, was out. But my daughter has not outgrown her love of Halloween. And this year, for the first time in recent history, the holiday would fall on a Friday. Better yet, that Friday was an early-dismissal day that marked the end of the quarter and the start of a four-day weekend. She refused to settle for staying home and answering the door. She determined to celebrate Halloween, and properly. Without trick-or-treating, but with friends, costumes, and, of course, candy.
For additional thoughts on Halloween and trick-or-treating age limits, see On Improving Halloween, from November 2011.