Laurelle’s comment on my tree prompted me to post my favorite Christmas song.

This is my all-time Christmas favorite. It may seem really corny, but listen to the words. Forget that it is about a cartoon dog and his imaginary world – listen to the words.

The words are great, but they are only half the reason this is my all-time, hands-down favorite Christmas song. In 1966, I was just 10 years old and in the 5th grade. Life was terrible. I was miserably “unpopular” (whatever the heck that is): a skinny little girl who looked more like a boy with her “pixie” haircut. I didn’t “get” school and barely eked out average grades. I had no idea that I was simply a late bloomer: I was certain I was doomed to failure. I cried a lot.

I had a few friends and one of those was a girl named Trudi Elmore. Trudi had a vivid imagination like I did, so we hit it off with any game that involved playing “pretend.” We had some favorites: “pretend we’re Pepé le Pew and Chilly Willy” or “pretend we’re wild horses” (a perennial favorite) and “Snoopy Vs. the Red Baron”.

The latter involved getting to the swingset in the playground before anyone else. There was a crack in the pavement under the swingset. We’d swing as high as we could (she was always braver than I was an would get so high the swing would “buck”, which would get us in trouble with the playground monitor). On the back-swing, we were over Allied soil, getting refueled or drinking root beers. Then we’d swing forward and over the crack in the pavement: GERMANY!

Ratttattat-tat-tat! Boom! Boom! We were Snoopy and the Red Baron was getting a full dose of Allied righteous wrath.

Over and over and over again.

I thought I died and went to Heaven when I found this CD in a discount bin.

Some classics, Eh?

Anyway, the point of this is the song: Snoopy’s Christmas.

Trudi (who could sing – the eternal curse of my life is that no matter how hard I try, I cannot sing. I’m not tone-deaf, but I am flat) would sing that song as we “flew” in the swings over the Allied Nations and Germany, destroying Hitler and all his minions and (especially) the notorious Red Baron (“curse you, Red Baron!”).

For twenty minutes, two times a day, plus recess, I was a world-conqueror with my friend, Trudi.

That is why I love that song so much.

Epilogue: when we were 20, Trudi was diagnosed with a brain tumor. She was a semester from achieving her Bachelor’s in Theology and well on her way to becoming an ordained Methodist minister. The tumor on her brain was deemed inoperable in the USA, so her parents (who had already lost one child) took her to Paris and paid the top surgeons in the world to operate. They got the tumor, but Trudi’s brilliant brain was exposed to oxygen for far too long and she was left a mental vegetable who lived out the rest of her life in a group home in Reno. The long letters we wrote to each other were replaced by long Christmas notes between her mom and I until the event of her mother’s death a couple years ago. Trudi died about five years earlier.

Now – instead of crying, go back up to that link and play that song again.

“Christmas Bells, those Christmas Bells

Ringing through the land

Ringing peace for all the world

And good will to Man.”

“Merry Christmas, My Friend!”

Everyone left me today: Don went into the mountains and the kids went off to church. I got up late, made coffee and decorated the Christmas tree.

It gives me a sense of peace to decorate the tree (once I have the lights on, that is: putting the lights on the tree never goes peacefully). I used about two-thirds of my ornaments as I didn’t want to crawl back into the attic and look for the other boxes.

It is just as well: I tend to over-do Christmas. I have had to pare it down the past three Christmases. All the Santas and Nativities remain boxed in the attic this year, along with another third of the ornaments, the tins, the garland, the cooky platter and all of the outdoor stuff. I decided to not do anything outdoor this year, except the traditional wreath on the door.

Well, it’s a swag and it isn’t hanging on the door. Left over Noble fir branches, some holly from our holly tree and garland, jingle bells and red accents.

When I was done, I put the boxes back in the attic, turned the lights on the tree and sat back.

The North wind blows.

I love it when this turns into…

This.

I like ornaments that have a story to tell. Some of them have history as well, but the ornaments themselves must tell a story.

Many are gifts from friends (like Laurelle). We buy ornaments for each other every year. And some are ones that I saw during the year that I just had to have for my tree.

There  is    no theme. 

I love Christmas as much for the Reason as I do for the decorations, the lights, the getting together with friends, and the food.

I’m not big on the shopping. That is probably the one thing I do not like about Christmas. But I do love the giving.

And the tree. I really, really like the tree part of Christmas.

Darn. Time out, again. Life is so hard when you are two years old. It’s time out for this and time out for that.

Don’t I look sorry? I promise I will kiss and make it up to you.

The day after Thanksgiving is traditionally our “get-the-heck-outta-Dodge” day. We’ve tried shopping on Black Friday, but neither Don nor I like crowds and the more commercial it becomes, the further from the madness we want to be.

We cut our Christmas tree on Black Friday. Traditionally, we go up into the National Forest to pick out a wild noble fir, but there are those odd winters when the snow level drops to 2500′ and getting up to 5,000′ is not going to happen. Roads are closed.

That leaves tree lots and U-Cut places. And we like wild Noble fir trees. Charlie Brown trees. The majority of U-Cut places grow clone trees that look like little pine incense cones. We’ve stumbled onto a few U-Cut places where we’ve lucked out, and the best one was a place we found the year Sam & Arwen got married.

If only we could remember the name of the U-Cut and what road it was on. Don and I searched the Internet for local U-Cut places (this is Christmas Tree country and there are plenty to choose from), but nothing sounded quite right. There was one hopeful in Colton, but when we tried the call ahead number, no one answered. Undeterred, we decided to drive out and look for it.

The name of the place was some guy’s first name and he was a really nice laid-back guy who grew laid-back trees. And it was located out by Colton.

The amazing part to this tale is that we drove right to it.

Roy’s U-Cut.

Roy has been doing this for 18 years but the sign says “Since July 21, 1966″. You drive down in to the place and Roy might be at the house or down at the portable sawmill. He points you in the right direction, and when you’ve picked out a tree, he will come out and cut it down for you.

We’ve never paid more than $20 for a Noble at Roy’s.

We stood around and visited before leaving, mentioning to Roy that we couldn’t find him on the Internet. Turns out, he’s looked into web-hosting, was over-whelmed at the cost, and left it there. But he told us to tell our friends about his business. So I am telling my friends.

We loaded the tree onto the Explorer and brought it home, where Don used the air compressor to blow out the dead needles and what not from the center of the tree.

A Just Perfect Noble fir awaiting decorations. $20. Fresh cut, in a stand full of sugar water. It will still be fresh when we take it down in January.

I’m not decorating it until Sunday because I have to buy new lights. I have lights, but getting to them in the attic is convoluted and while I got the ornaments out, I decided my back hurts too much to try to figure out which box the lights are in. Don took one look into the attic and said, “Just buy lights.”

Want a tree like this? Or another sort: Doug fir? Grand fir? Do you live locally around the Portland Metro area? Try Roy’s U-Cut. 503-824-2445. 28643 Baurer Road. Take S. Beavercreek Road out of Oregon City to the Clarkes Intersection and turn east onto Unger. Four miles and south onto Baurer Road one mile. There are hand-painted signs along the way.

Roy is a very nice man. You’ll be glad you went.

Our Thanksgiving Day was pretty quiet. The babies were up too early and the men slept in. Arwen fed children and prepared yams. I got up and poured myself a cup of coffee. Walking across the kitchen, WHAM! – my back went out. Just like that. Major spasms in the upper left quadrant that abated slightly when Arwen massaged it, but which have not yet left.

The kids were not planning on eating here today. They have friends (imagine that!) who do not have family nearby and they wanted to hang out with young people who share similar goals and who have small children as well. So by 11:00AM, we were left alone with the dog. Or the dog was left alone with us.

I muddled through getting the bread dough ready, the turkey stuffed and into the oven (missed my brother’s call but he talked to Don) and then I came down with an ocular migraine. I rarely have the headache (although sometimes I get a rebound one within 48 hours of the ocular migraine), but the little halo lights are disconcerting and blinding. This one was a particularly bad one (brought on, I think, by the spasms in my back).

I’ve talked to a lot of people who experience ocular migraines and everyone describes the halo differently, so I wonder if it isn’t different for everyone? For me, they lights start as a pinprick, then slowly become a semi-circle of lights that blink like the neon lights on a ferris wheel at night, seeming to move. I lose about a third of my vision and have to stop whatever I am doing if it requires reading, typing, or driving. A dark room helps, but it doesn’t make the lights go away. In fact, they can be more intense when I close my eyes and am forced to focus on them. Such was the case today.

I was beginning to think the day was a bust all around! But the migraine finally abated and I was able to relax a little and dinner came together as planned, on time.

When the meat thermometer reached 160-degrees (F), I set the table. Out with the fine china and crystal dishes. I opted out of digging out the fine silver flat ware because of my shoulder/back issue, so we used the Oneida flatware. That also meant I did not dig out the Thanksgiving cloth napkins, and paper was the order of the day.

There’s something very relaxing about tradition and even if it was going to be just the two of us, we both wanted some trappings of traditional Thanksgiving Dinner with fine china, crystal and my mother’s antique turkey platter.

When the thermometer beeped at 180-degrees (F), the turkey came out of the oven, the sourdough bread and home-made candied yams went in. I’m really not much into cooking at any time of the year, so I confess that Thanksgiving staples around here have to be simple to make.

The stuffing comes out of a box (I sauteé onions and add them, but the giblets go to the dog. Can’t stand the giblets). The yams are amazingly simple to make: boil whole for 15-20 minutes and they just pop out of their skins. A little brown sugar and butter and bake at 375 for 30 minutes (or so). The marshmallows go on top  for the last 5-10 minutes. The jellied cranberry sauce comes out of a can as do the olives.

The sourdough probably takes the most preparation. I have to feed the started the night before and mix the dough in the morning so it will rise at least once before I form the rounds.

This year I bought a handful of brussels sprouts and nuked them in a covered container with just a little bit of water, then drizzled a mixture of butter, basil leaves, salt & pepper over them. Yummy.

We added a bottle of 2007 Bogle petite sirah to the table and dinner was ready. The turkey was yummy.

We even had company.

The band-tailed pigeons showed up right as we sat down to dine. There are about six of them in the feeder (you can see five) and one sentry in the limb above, and five or more that are not in the photo because they were on other limbs, waiting their turn at the feeder. We’ve seen as many as nine on the feeder at once, with another ten or so hovering n the branches of the lodgepole pine and the trees across the street, or sitting on our eaves. I had to shoot the photo through the window because they fly off the moment the front door is opened a crack. They are very shy dinner guests.

When I started ProjectFeeder Watch, I wondered if I would get feedback when I entered the number of pigeons at our feeder at one time. I did: “That’s an unusually high number of band-tailed pigeons at once. Are you certain?” Oh, yes, I am certain. These beautiful game birds have been coming to our feeder for about three years now. Sometimes cars stop on the street out front and people stare in amazement. I’ve seen pedestrians pause.

We are the only people in the area that I know feed birds and I think our feeder is easy to get to. The band-tailed pigeons love the forest-like feel of the neighborhood where we live and nest here during the summer. In the winter, they flock up and we see them once a day or so. They come in, take over the feeder, fill their craws and fly away to roost and “chew” the bird seed (pigeons peck small bits of gravel which passes through their system, chewing up the seeds in the craw since birds do not have teeth). (Jaci’s Simplified Explanation.)

So we dined with the flock of pigeons outside the window, Murphy curled up on my feet (why my feet?) and no children to share our day with.

Clean-up was simple and the dishes are now done, the turkey carves and refrigerated, and everything put away.

All we need is for the kids to bring us home one of the pies they baked and took over to their friends’ house. In my pie pans.

I’ve called my son and wished him Happy Thanksgiving; Don has called his parents and his brother; my brother called and talked to Don. I need to call my dad in a few. I talked to Chrystal yesterday (she had other plans today as well). So we’re good in the family department.

Thankful for a quiet day since my shoulder still hurts like a son-of-a-gun and I’m a little more than crabby. Hopefully whatever I did to put it out will resolve itself over night. Because tomorrow is Christmas Tree Day.

It was a beautiful day today. I just wanted to share that.

The weather was beautiful today! The sun came out and the rain went away. I got in two beautiful walks in the business park where I work (which is a lovely business park with low red-brick buildings; tall hedges; plantings of oaks, maples, cedars and Doug fir; and numerous ponds with walkways and lots of mallards and Canada geese).

Today, we saw several fairy rings.

And I happened to have my camera.

I also happened to have it accidentally set to take several shots rapidly (I hit buttons all the time and don’t realize I have done it. Usually, it is the timer and I find myself staring at this little timer counting off seconds until the shutter snaps)). Today I had it on rapid-fire and it went click-click-click.

Nancy said the little toadstools look like fairy houses.

I was just irritated that I had the settings wrong and I just snapped four photos in a row with just one press of the finger.

“Oh well,” I thought. “I will merely delete the ones I do not want tonight when I download them to my computer.”

I downloaded them and decided I couldn’t choose one to be my favorite. Amazing what you can capture when your shutter goes click-click-click-click.

Just amazing.

I hope you had a beautiful day, too.

(Thank you, Dover Books freebies – where I got the clip art -  & Arthur Rackham)

I’m always picking up stuff and putting it into my pocket. Agates, seed pods, acorns, whatever. Then I collect all those items in my craft room (the room that is presently non-existent) for use on some project, some day in the future.

Sometimes, found items grow dust on the tins on the ledge of the window over the kitchen sink until I get around to dropping them into the Found Items box. That is the case for these acorn caps (I suppose there’s an actual name for that part of the acorn that holds the seed): they are languishing on a tin in the window. That’s OK: they remind me that I will one day get around to making some sort of craft (most likely some sort of creature) utilizing the little caps.

I dreamed about getting out my oil pastels the other night. It was a strange dream: I couldn’t find my water color crayons and was getting frustrated, then I remembered that I keep them in a briefcase which is currently stored in a closet. I could see the little tin I keep the crayons in, and the palette of color quite vividly.

Then I woke up and went about my day until I had to get something out of a closet and there was the briefcase – and I remembered the dream with clarity. I don’t know if I was dreaming that I should get the briefcase out and load it into my truck (to paint during my lunch hour) or if I was just reminding myself that I have the paints and I will get to paint again.

The biggest problem with our current living situation is that I do not like to paint or create when other people are around. It is a solitary endeavor and one that cannot be pursued with little people underfoot. I’m not nearly patient enough and am rather possessive of my creations. Don’t color on my piece of paper, please. And thank you.

But being creative is part of who I am and I can’t keep it under an acorn cap too long. Pretty soon, it is going to have to bust out somewhere.

I am already redesigning my craft room for when the kids move back out.

Meanwhile, I will continue to pick up odds and ends on my walks and I will deposit them on the tins in my kitchen window. And I’ll haul the briefcase out to the truck with a bottle of water so I can start painting during my lunch hour again.

And I thought this post was going to be about acorns.

I am doing this ProjectFeeder Watch for Cornell University. Yesterday and today, I have been monitoring the birdfeeder and the area I can see from our kitchen window. It has been a productive weekend for birds and not all of them in the feeder. I’ve seen several flocks of different species in my neighbor’s yard and on her house: Cedar Waxwings, Northern Flickers, American robins, English house sparrows (Weaver Finch) and one Varied Thrush.

Our feeder hasn’t been nearly so busy: a few House finches, dark-eyed Juncos, a pair of Chickadees, and a small flock of Bushtits.

And the Pirate squirrel. Who brought a friend today.

The Pirate Squirrel is the one on the left. He lost his eye sometime last spring, but he still commutes to our feeder on a regular basis. Usually, he is alone.

He used to be fairly tame. The loss of his eye has made him skittish. I tried taking photos through the window to avoid upsetting him. Since he lost his eye, he’s kept his blind side to the feeder and his good eye exposed, but with his new partner, he was comfortable enough to have his blind eye on the house.

I decided to try getting closer, but this is as close as I got. The little Pirate Wench Squirrel is a very good lookout.

Don says we need to make a patch for the Pirate Squirrel.

Arrrrrr. Thar be seeds in this ‘ere tree, Matey…

Sometimes you feel like a nut.

He looked like he wanted to share his acorn with me.