On Christmas Eve we bring the outdoors indoors!
This is our tiny little potted Christmas tree which is small and crooked and all the more perfect because of that. Once the holidays are over this tree will be thanked for its service and planted in the back garden where I’m sure it will be welcomed by the many, many sparrows which live in the shrubbery.
It was dressed with lights by the local garden centre, the large decorations are ones I crocheted myself (I especially like the Christmas puds and the candy canes) and the baubles were found hiding at the back of a cupboard and, given the state of the box they were in, are possibly older than me. This eclectic mix is born of necessity; we had intended to move house this year and so, once last Christmas was over and done with, we packed all our decorations up ready for transportation and put them into storage. Since two members of this household are classed as high risk moving 400 miles seemed like an unnecessary risk to take so we stayed put, the decorations remained boxed and inaccessible, and this Christmas – very much like the rest of this year – is a make do and mend affair!
And thus my Outdoor Advent is done.
Thank you all for coming on this journey with me. I’m not entirely sure what I ended up posting each day was what I promised at the start of this little adventure but I do hope that you have enjoyed at least a few of the posts and that they have brightened the days a little.
I am now going into hibernation for the rest of this year, with the aim of simply existing without any reference to to-do lists or any requirement to work at all. There will be books, walks, crochet and just curling up under the blankets and watching the world go by. With any luck I will emerge blinking into 2021 feeling refreshed and rejuvenated and ready to meet what the new year brings.
I leave you all with Twenty Blessings, a poem by Thomas A Clarke*, and I wish for each and every one of you to receive as many of them as you would like:
May the best hour of the day be yours.
May luck go with you from hill to sea.
May you stand against the prevailing wind.
May no forest intimidate you.
May you look out from your own eyes.
May near and far attend you.
May you bathe your face in the sun’s rays.
May you have milk, cream, substance.
May your actions be effective.
May your thoughts be affective.
May you will both the wild and the mild.
May you sing the lark from the sky.
May you place yourself in circumstance.
May you be surrounded by goldfinches.
May you pause among alders.
May your desire be infinite.
May what you touch be touched.
May the company be less for your leaving.
May you walk alone beneath the stars.
May your embers still glow in the morning.
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*Found thanks to this tweet by @atarbuck
Kizzia Mildmay 