Grace in small things: six

1. The sleek cleanliness of a wooden floor in the ten minutes between the time it's cleaned and the time someone tracks in a new smattering of fir needles.

2. The single snowflake that fell on my cheek last night, which made me catch my breath and hold very still as if it might flit away like a butterfly.

3. The Mae Ploy yellow curry paste I used for the first time last night to make a perfect, delicious meal of vegetables in yellow curry coconut sauce over rice.

4. The seemingly everlasting nature of the enormous tin of cocoa I bought at Costco last year.

5. The silkiness of the cowl (my first) I finished knitting on Saturday. I am still unconvinced of the utility of a cowl / neckwarmer, but this particular garment is certainly delicious against my skin.

O Tannenbaum

Thursday I mentioned that I had a chance to put up the Christmas "tree" I created last year.



When I was growing up, one of our holiday traditions was a growing collection of ornaments for each of us kids. Every Christmas we would get an ornament or two from our parents and grandparents. Usually our name and the year got written or taped somewhere hidden on each ornament. Our ornaments were stored with all of the other Christmas decorations in a grand old wooden chest, painted green, which had been in the family for two or three generations. The chest was stored away in my parents' bedroom through the rest of the year, only brought out when it was time to decorate the Christmas tree.


This ornament always makes me think of my sister. Oddly, the smaller girl's smile reminds me of my mom's.

I can still recall the exact piney scent that wafted out when the chest was opened each December, the slightly musty smell of old tinsel and holiday candles and garlands. My mom and dad would untangle the knotted strands of Christmas lights and wind them carefully around the tree. Mom always made sure the last light on the strand got tucked into the hand of the angel that topped the tree, so that light had to be yellow or white for extra realism.


This is one of my oldest ornaments, a figurine from the Nutcracker from long before I ever saw the Nutcracker ballet.

Finally, when the lights were arranged evenly, the ornamentation could begin. Mom would open tiny boxes and unwind tissue paper to reveal the little treasures we only saw this one month per year. We oohed as each familiar ornament was presented, as delighted as if they were brand new.

The three of us had to take turns hanging our ornaments, although as the eldest I had the advantage of a slightly larger collection. A lot of thought had to go into tree placement: the sturdiest twigs should be saved for the heaviest ornaments, but who could remember whether there were more heavy ornaments to come? My sister and I had several nearly identical ornaments, and those had to be spaced far apart on the tree for visual variety. And although nobody could really see the back of the tree, some things still had to be hung there so the tree didn't look lopsided.


A middle-school favorite, this elaborate tiny clock was a gift from my Gran.

When I graduated from high school, my ornaments remained at my parents' house, and the same ritual was repeated every year when I went home for Christmas. When I finished college, though, it was deemed time that I take my ornaments for my own house. My sister took hers shortly thereafter when she got married, and my brother followed suit a few years later.


This is another of the oldest ornaments in my collection. I love these older wooden ones.

Now each winter when I take them out and hang my ornaments, alone, I am a little overwhelmed with the sense of glad nostalgia that wafts out of the box with them. These are some of the few things that I have known my entire life. Bringing them out of their tissue-paper wrappings and boxes is like greeting old friends. I can't decorate my own "tree" without hearing echoes of small squabbles with my sister and brother, seeing little ghosts reverently placing their pretties on a tree, and smelling that musty, piney old chest. It's honestly the only time that I ever miss being a kid, lost in the annual excitement of decorating for Christmas.


Christmas lights on the windowsill with an unusual Seattle snowfall in the background outside.

Snow day

I went to bed last night cynical. Seattle had sat in the hole of the "snow doughnut" all day yesterday, and I tried not to believe the forecasters' insistence that snow would arrive in town overnight.

This morning I woke up before the alarm when Chloe the timid German Shepherd started pacing in agitation, perhaps because of the brief loud thunder that hadn't awakened me. As we woke up, Mr. Thel looked out the window and gasped. "Oh wow!"

I squinted suspiciously. "You're full of it." I peeked through the blinds and hey, look at that white stuff!

My supervisor called at 6:15 to notify me that our office would be closed today, so I had a lovely unexpected day off to finally put up my "tree." It was the perfect gift.

Chloe hates thunder, but loves the snow.

Two weeks ago

Mr. Thel is taking Chloe to have the staples removed from her surgery incision today. Two weeks down and six to go until we can start walking her outside on a leash again. I'm not looking forward to another six weeks like the last one; Chloe thinks she's better, and wants to be allowed to run around again. She's tired of being forced to lie down and stay all the time, or of being confined to small parts of the house. I'm tired of keeping her contained.

At least her hair is growing back in again, so she doesn't look quite so much like the victim of a deranged groomer's out-of-control clippers.

Oh Christmas wire, oh Christmas wire

I had a germ of an idea about a Christmas tree, this year. Our house has no room for a cut tree. In the past, purchasing a potted tree hasn't worked out very well for us either. (We neglect them to death.) Perhaps, my idea-seed whispered, I could make some kind of a facsimile of a Christmas tree. After all, I'm a crafty soul, am I not? Do I not have creativity a-bubble in my soul?

Having not planted this germ, nor thought further on it in any way, I found myself last Friday evening with the news that snow would probably fall on Saturday. Mr. Thel and I went out to see August Rush (an insufferable, cloying, eye-rolling, suspension-of-disbelief-puncturing blot of a movie that I am almost completely unable to recommend), and on the way home I made him stop at a Fred Meyer. I had a vague idea about using wire; couldn't find wire. Maybe coat hangers? Only wooden ones available. Frustrated and idealess, I wandered through the home section willy-nilly, hoping inspiration would strike. I paused at the live trees for a moment, feeling defeated, but a burst of defiance led me out into the garden area.

Aha! Madness and inspiration struck me like a hammer. I bought one package of something similar to these:



plus one roll of green tape. $8 later I scurried out the door, cackling and rubbing my hands with glee. Metaphorically.

Saturday morning, of course, the sketchily imagined project itself turned out to be a bit harder to create than I had airily visualized. No doubt buying a potted tree and plunking it down in the living room would have been several times easier and faster than wrestling with wire all morning. Nevertheless, I finally ended up with a roughly conical structure that let me wrap a strand of colored lights around it, hang all my ornaments on it, and even throw a star on top. Without falling over. And it never needs watering! Works for me. Ring in the holidays, my "tree" is decorated and proud.

The view from my office, three weeks ago

It's barren now, but this tree turns such a determined yellow in the fall that I frequently mistake its brightness for sunshine even on the gloomiest of days.

Already out of things to say

I am halfway through the knitting of a second sock. The first sock was finished sometime around...March? April? Clearly I'll never be a super sock knitter. One pair a year...that's not even enough to let me build up a collection of beautiful, handknitted socks. A collection I could likely never bring myself to wear, being too aware of the enormous investment of time and energy in each sock to risk wearing them out. No, I'll frame each one and gaze proudly at them on the wall or something logical like that.

Chloe had a vet appointment this evening. We haven't yet made any effort to find a new vet closer to the south end, so we had to drive nearly up to Shoreline to get there. It was just a routine check-up and vaccination, but she ended up getting a blood test for heartworms too, so she had to endure four injections. As I helped pin her down in a corner so the vet could stab a needle in her shoulder, she looked utterly woeful. Her deep and grievous sense of betrayal was quickly left behind after a small handful of treats, though. Then we went back out to the front desk and I had to endure a painful siphoning myself when I paid the bill.

Oh, well, she's still cheaper than a kid, even if she's also far less useful. She is a total drain on society! She has no inherent value! She benefits nobody, and her living expenses are an indulgence which should induce fits of guilt in my soul!

My counterargument? Well, just wook at dat shmookum widdle boo boo face:



Also, if you should ever happen to misplace a small tidbit of, say, dried cow liver, Chloe will detect and home in on it like a meat-seeking missile. Case closed!

Still my favorite room in the house

Even when it's overcast or raining, the two large windows in the kitchen make it the brightest room in the house. We plan to take out part of the wall separating the living room from the kitchen and put in a breakfast bar. I look forward to having a little space to sit with a mug of cocoa and enjoy the light during the winter months.

Autumn light

Seward Park in February

These pictures are from a walk I took two weeks ago with Chloe. It was that productive Saturday--I rode my bike 6 miles to make my muscles remember how to do it, walked with Chloe around the 2.5-mile Seward Park loop trail, did a bunch of laundry, did some errands, and had a friend over for a movie in the evening.

I'd only been to Seward Park once before, so I enjoyed walking Chloe around the loop. We meandered around on a forest trail first. A true Northwest girl, I do love walking in the dim stillness beneath a damp green canopy. I love the smell of earth, the tiny lush spikes of moss on a stump, pale mushrooms quietly sprouting out of leaf mould. We saw plenty of all that.



We also saw several of these; I assume they fell on December 14.



We soon found our way back to the paved road that loops around the peninsula of the park. There were plenty of other people out enjoying the dry day. Next time I think we'll stick to the forest trails and avoid most of the people. Not that we had problems with the people, but it's nice to have a quiet walk too. I sort of miss being close to Discovery Park.



We stopped before leaving the park to pay homage to the Mountain.