Happy Christmas

 It's 16:20, I'm sitting outside, and it's not quite dark yet. There is a fire blazing in the fire pit, and I am roasting hot on the front and freezing on the back. It reminds me of when I was little and we used to swim and slide down mountain glacier streams - the dichotomy of temperature.

Neal is behind me, standing on the steps, trying to photograph the moon. The moon is almost full and rising through the pink-grey sky like a lighthouse. It's amazing, and, judging by the sighs coming from behind the tripod, Neal is getting frustrated. He has a new camera, a digital, to which he is able to affix vintage manual focus lenses. He has been ordering these from ebay with great enthusiasm (Look at this! Made in the GDR! It's only a tenner!!) but it takes time to figure out all of their idiosyncrasies, and the moon is a recalcitrant model and is not hanging about.

All of this is punctuated by two robins fiercely singing. One close, one further off. It is only from reading the robin book I bought when they nested above the door that I learned they are literally having it out. "Come on over here if you think you're hard enough. What's that little red? You talking to me? You and what army?" And yet it sounds so beautiful. I wonder how much of what we perceive of as beauty is just us, oblivious.

One of the singing robins is Jacques, named for the white racing stripe against each wing. It is usually impossible for me to tell any of the robins apart - or blue tits. There is one great tit that stands out because he is impossibly lovely - there is something about the distinction of his markings - his black bib is crisp and his feathers are stunning, I call him gorgeous George. Unfortunately he is quite an aggressive little bastard even for a bird.

It's been a quiet Christmas but a good one. It felt nice to be just us two this year, like we were for many years. In fact, the last few days have felt more normal than anything has for a long time. 

The fire is almost out and I am pretty much touch typing now as it's too dark to see. 

Happy middle days - the true mid-winter. Stay safe x

new jumper!

 

Eventually.

I did stuff today!

 Real stuff! With other people and everything! With CHRISTMAS CAROLS! (happy sigh)

I've been volunteering with a group called Trees for Farms, who work with conservation groups and farmers to plant trees and hedgerows. For a few weeks we have been digging out a bank for a new hedgerow on a farm in Conyer (about 8 km from here) and today we planted it. It's actually quite hard work (my lower back and arse are shouting now. "Oh really? WHAT WAS YOUR FIRST CLUE?").  It wasn't raining, the sun even broke through for a bit, and it was good to be outside, working, even if planting trees implies an optimism for the future that I don't particularly share right now. It reminded me of a phrase my beautiful cousin Maria shared with me years ago from Martin Luther: (transl) "If I knew that tomorrow the world would be destroyed, I would still plant today my little apple tree."

I cycled to Conyer and back (arse: WE KNOW) (do you think arse should be plural? I suppose we only have one, but there are two buttocks which implies some degree of plurality. I think plural - if only because on one of the yoga videos I (very) intermittently do, the teacher refers at one point to buttocks in the singular and no matter how relaxed I am at that point it always makes me stop and go, what?)

Anyways, with that and the digging and planting I was pretty tired but the fun was not over as, after lunch, I met with three others from the brass band and we went to the new bandstand area in the recreation ground and recorded a few (socially distanced) carols to be added to the you tube 'Carols (not) in the Marketplace'. Every December, just before Christmas, the town comes out in force to sing carols in the town square with brass band accompaniment. Obviously that can't happen this year, hence some creative work-arounds. Today the sun shone, some onlookers gathered around, and I could have played all afternoon - I would have if I could have convinced the others to stay too. I did try. The other three undoubtedly ended up playing a lot longer than they had intended. 

It's a strange December with no Christmas gigs, no carols in the Christmas markets, no cathedral concerts, no pubs. Even today, when we finished, we were all laughing and packing up and someone said, "To the pub then?" and we all stopped short - because that is exactly what would have happened and now it can't and yet again Covid lands a sucker punch.

There's more brass carols ahead - my friend John and I are hatching plans. They involve a fire pit and the end of our driveway - I'll keep you posted!