My very best Christmas

This was my very best Christmas. In a big house on Main street in Tillamook, Oregon everything was beautiful and happy. My grandparent's house was warm and fragrant from the just cut tree and crowded with people who were glad to be there.  I'm sure my mother helped put the "rain" on the tree, she was meticulous and would have wanted to please her new mother in law. The lights were low in the kitchen except for the one over the Tom and Jerry bowl, a special one - children were not allowed but there was another one just for them with tiny cups to fit little hands, and lots of home made cookies and probably a ham. All my aunts and uncles were there. Christmas music would have been playing on the new mahogany cabinet that held the record player which had just replaced the wind up with the brass horn.  My parents were still happily married.

The carpeting in the house had muted roses on a grey background and the wall paper was a soft dove grey with a pattern of white feathers. The brocade drapes would have been drawn over the pale golden shades, the ivory pull dangling from a long string.  Soon my grandfather would have disappeared and my grandmother would say to the children, "What's that noise? I hear something on the roof.", we were sure we heard it too, then the doorbell would ring.  A wide eyed child would rush to open it, letting a burst of cold air in and stepping back in wonder because Santa was there. Little necks would strain looking up in awe and then down to the big, red bag. There were presents under the tree but the best ones were the ones given to waiting hands.

As Santa disappeared, my grandfather came back and began turning all the lights out, except the tree with the big bright bulbs that got too hot for little ones who always wanted to touch. In the too warm and cozy room 4 children would be oohing and ahhing and passing back and forth presents that were so different then.  The wrapping paper, thin and soft, would be strewn in excitement, a cloud enveloping children and baby dolls and wind up train engines. Parents, huddled together, would laugh with each other and watch carefully to see that nothing got left unwrapped, and children were sharing, as children did then. In the glow from the tree, newlyweds, they all were then, exchanged presents and tender smiles. The war had just ended and all my uncles were safely back home, a present for my grandparents.

There was love in that warm and softly lit room and there would be for several years to come.
                                                                          

It was 1949.  My pretty mother in her favorite dress, green with pink bows, my aunt, a late surprise to my grandparents - all my uncles grown and married - and my sister with her baby doll. My mother is carrying me, four months in, I would be born in May. There were more Christmases just like this, a few as sweet and loving and gentle and filled with tenderness. But this is the one I remember best, this was the one I loved.

Merry Christmas everyone.
Love, Liv

The way in and the way out and then I risked my life to get these for you

This was the last hike of the year for me, I'm not a snow hiker or even walker.  But I love the smell of the forest and the quiet mystery.  It's the end of fall in these pictures and still quite warm. The scent was heavenly. At certain points I could look up and see the sky, but most of the time it was an enveloping canopy of trees.                         

                          This was the way the path looked as I entered
                                                                             

                              This was the path on the way out.

 I was struggling with some things that day as I walked and it struck me as I was leaving, that it seems some of the problems of life are so easy to get into and so difficult to get out of, but all through it there is an abundance of beauty and peace and wonderful things that nourish and sooth us and give us hope.  It reminded me that I tend to just see the problem that is right in front of me and not the larger picture. When I could stop for a moment and take it all in, it reminded me of how good life can be.  It's all about perspective.                                                                        

                                                                                 

This is for you, Birdie.  This was my companion.

Here is what I had to risk my life to capture for you. I walked through the blustery, howling, windy snow to get these pictures of the creak on our property.  You can't see it very well, but that is the little water fall at the beginning of the creak.  It actually has to come down 5 little steps but they were very hard to see because I would have had to get in the creak to capture it clearly. And the sound of it? My god, it's natures music, isn't it? That tumble of water over rocks and logs. In the summer I sit by it for hours and listen to it. I've never lived by this sound and I might not ever again, so I know how lucky I am to receive a musical, watery gift like this.

Here the snow is whizzing past the camera and it looks like little comets flying through the air. 

                                                                               

It's amazing to know that through all this chaos and turmoil, the planet still pretty much does what it's supposed to. God how I pray that continues.

I swear to you, my pictures aren't always this bad, really.