I thought I'd take - just the tiniest peek
At how January - might start next week
Good research - comes to the wise
To know in advance - brings no surprise

So I pressed my nose - on an ancient crack
In January's door - but I soon jumped back

The scene was fully - blowing ice and snow
Snow Bunny pals - said, "'Tis the way to go."

--C. G. Mack

December already—how fast the days move this time of year. Fast-forward, our days speed ahead from feasting on turkey with family and friends on Thanksgiving—that most congenial of holidays—to this hectic time of gift-gathering.

That is, if one celebrates Christmas.  At my house, we're opted out.  With no 'young-un's' expecting gifts, we've hunkered down with piles of tempting books and mugs of hot chocolate. I'm diving into Steinbeck's Log from the Sea of Cortez and after that I'm going to re-visit Grapes of Wrath. Given the shape the economy's in, I figured maybe I could pick up some pointers within its pages.

Turning our back on the the clarion call to shop and buy, we're instead celebrating these days and nights of decreased light with a peaceful inner light that says seasons greetings in a more elemental way.

All summer long, I'd craved these quiet nights of early darkness and hot chocolate

Piling on quilts and comforters, reading in bed while the world snoozes, with no buzz of mosquito or fly to interrupt my travels with Steinbeck.

Answering my body's cry for carbs, I make a hearty potato soup, bake bread, pile on the pasta.  Who am I to resist what nature calls me to do.  After all, doesn't she know best?

For the antidote for carb-fired fat gain, I force myself from hearth and home and bicycle to the gym to do penance on the treadmill and elliptical. See me go,  chubby little hamster.  Run carb lady, run.

Soon comes the winter solstice

The shortest day of the year, when light and darkness are equally balanced.  There's a magic there I do love. The candles in our windows shine forth, we decorate our homes with Christmas lights, light the eight candles of Hanukkah's Festival of Light menorah—we acknowledge, we celebrate and welcome the miracle of the coming of the light.

We throw another Yule log on the fire and gaze into the ancient blaze.  The dog and cat come and huddle close enough to sizzle fur, their eyes drowsy with contentment.

Our flames and lights shine forth, inside and outside our homes.  We've survived the darkness.  Here once again, come the longer days of light.

Each dear family member and friend is the flame that warms me just now

True, they warm me all through the year, but most especially now. These days of darkness, when it's shivery cold and that North winds blows with a bite, I'm protected by their laughter, the time we find to spend together.  Our conversations that range wide and free. Lost in giggles, or lost in thought, we travel far.

Maybe this is why the call to seasonal shopping leaves me cold   All year I think of them, and they of me.  We give each other little gifts.  Maybe a book.  A newspaper clipping of interest.  A loaf of banana bread. A link to a funny video we know will make them laugh.

My world would indeed be dark without their brilliance. Since I cannot find 'friendship,' 'love,' 'grace,' or 'laughter,' at the mall or in any cyber store I've yet located, I turn my back on this particular shopping season and instead put the water on to boil for the tea pot.

Bad consumer am I

Nothing that requires batteries will be sent from my household to yours.  No waffle irons or anything that slices, dices or chops.  The Gross National Product will just have to slouch along without me.  I'm investing in Gross Personal Friendship.

You know who you are.  I love you.  A  big hug, wrapped in red ribbons, is saved, just for you. Seasons Greetings.

Bring on the light.

Christmas Eve is suddenly here - seems earlier a bit this year
We barely got our tree all trimmed - had to make each bulb appear

With children into slumber land - and gift placement plan concluded
Those toasting a job well done - smug not among the Santa deluded

Warm relations whisk about - that this Evening always lends
With a growing festive air - among the relatives and friends

We suspect one person there - counted gifts on tree and floor
Hoping a morning count revealed - that little "Chubby Guy" left more....

--C. G. Mack

BEAUFORT, NORTH CAROLINA

December 6, 2011

Temperature:  72 degrees

Wish you were here

With a vivid blue sky,  whisper of a breeze, and temperatures hovering in the low 70's, today your editor abandoned her desk, her computer, the indoors and headed out for a bicycle photo safari through pretty Beaufort Town.

Do you blame her?

As I pedaled down Ann and Front Streets, I thought how fortunate I am to live in this place, this community, and at this time of year.  Red-bowed Christmas garlands draped on white 18th-century homes and deep pink camellias in bloom greeted me along the quiet streets.

I pedaled the full length of Ann, then headed for waterfront Front Street.  If I were lucky today,  the Carrot Island horses would be out, or maybe I'd spy a frolic of dolphins leaping about.

But no, I didn't see a one of either creatures today- nothing was stirring. But no matter, a snack was on my mind.

Since it was in the 70's, and since I needed a little rest from my pedaling, I sought out the General Store for a scoop of double chocolate ice cream and a spot on their porch.  The store held no customers.  A shame, really, I thought, with weather like this.  Sitting on the porch, I let the world go by and followed the shape-shifting soft clouds hanging in the Carolina blue sky.

Missing you, come walk with me?

Mustering my energy, I walked across the street to the Town Docks. They, too, were deserted and again I thought, if I lived in a frozen weather place, I'd de-camp and come to Beaufort Town this time of year.

I'd come for the Beaufort Historic Association's Candlelight Tour, I'd come for the American Music Festival's Vivaldi concert at the Library, and I'd surely come for a scoop of double chocolate ice cream eaten on the porch at the General Store.

I wander over to the docks and do some window shopping for a boat so I can pretend I'm soon to lift anchor and sail off to the Bahamas.

Fish House Christmas

But then--why?  It's so beautiful here today, the soft breezes and sun have unknotted my tight shoulders. The Carolina blue is so very blue, the clouds so cottony.  I'm content.  Sail off to the Bahamas?  Not today, maybe tomorrow? So beautiful it is here today.

True, there's a certain fetching ketch at the docks that looked distinctly tempting...but that's a dream for another day. Truth told, I'm feeling too lazy to do more than pedal slowly home.

My little Beaufort Town.  So wonderfully preserved, it seems a Currier & Ives Christmas card brought to life. Minus the snow and sleighs.  No horses for me today. My steed is a 1970's candy apple red World Tourist bicycle. Five gears, but I seldom change them; not many hills in Beaufort Town.

That's me, a would-be “world tourist” who now travels the world Walter Mitty-like  from the perch atop a bicycle saddle.  I've wandered and now I'm berthed. Wanderlust might strike in the Spring, but now I tie my lines in this harbor.

The Bahamas are lovely, 'tis true, but the food is--please forgive me, for I don't mean to be mean--but the food there is a tad boring: Conch, conch, more conch, rice and peas.

Nope, give me some fresh caught speckled trout, some clam chowder and a slab of Key Lime pie--and if I'm feeling frisky, one of Danny's Cosmopolitans.

If I came to Beaufort in December, in this quiet time of red-bowed Christmas garlands and pink camellias, I'd wander down Front Street and visit with the shop keepers. Within their shops, I'd discover the sweet gifts for stockings, friends, family—and me.

Playhouse on Anne

Checking my list, I'd find something both naughty and nice--and often hand-made by one of our artists and craftspeople. For we are surely overflowing with a treasure chest of talent.  Not for me the noisy malls.  Who needs them when I can be on Front Street with the gulls, the pelicans, the sloops and the ketches-- and the double chocolate ice cream at the General Store?

And then?

Since it's now late afternoon, the time of long shadows, I find myself hankering for an espresso--a great chaser for that scoop of double chocolate ice cream.

Beaufort North Carolina, heading gently toward Christmas.  Christmas wreaths and camellias.

A peaceful place of sky and water. Boats bobbing at anchor. Me, too, safely harbored at home for the holidays.

I'm loving it.

Oh, give me these cinnamon-scented days
with their slanted fall of golden light
with ginger-crisp leaves drifting down.
Grant me these velvet starry nights
while I nest and pull high the comforter.

Pile on the gravy and the dressing
Pass me the sweet and the mashed.
Pies of pumpkin, apple and pecan
Oh my! Pile my plate full and high.

These Thanks Giving days
give me pause to think of you--
my spicy friends of all the seasons
we spiral dancers of moon and sun.

For you who nourish all my days
I whisper words of gratitude
Especially now, as I feel so fully
filled with home-cooked love.

--Patricia Comroe Frank

But the rules in this contest - appear to be a bit rough
For I can't use a knife - as I am not yet old enough

Found an old black felt pen - to draw all of the features

And make for my "punkie" - the scariest of creatures

What old black ink that was left - as I really did try
There is a cute nose and a smile - but only one scary eye.....

--C. G. Mack

It takes a village to bring a book to publication.

That's why you see dedications and acknowledgments in the front of most every book--they honor and recognize all the support, advice, and encouragement the writer received from their community.

My special little village of Beaufort has been very nurturing in helping me bring my book to completion. Last night, a good friend threw a publication celebration for me.  What a joyful experience.

In turn, I wanted to acknowledge my "village people" for their role in the book. And play a role they did, for some of my friends were borrowed and inspired some of the characters in Falling Through Time. Except, in reality, my friends are all wiser, younger, more slender, and have better haircuts.

For those who ask, the narrator of the book, Summer Holbrook is not me, even though both of us worked in advertising. I was much nicer, didn't go to Yale, had a happy upbringing in a sweet little Pennsylvania town, and have never owned a penthouse or a BMW roadster.  My mother did not swill gin.

If you go here you'll see lots of party pics.  I had fun in saluting my pals, and wrote the posting in couplets. You'll soon discover that I'm not a poet--but I do hope you'll enjoy the playfulness...!

That quite soon - his tests blow stronger
Especially as - the nights grow longer
As dusk darkens - while children assemble
To snatch small pumpkins - look back - and tremble....

--C. G. Mack

In the midst of my flowers - this year was born
The absolutely tallest - stalk of horsey corn
The stalk, now tan - had been so bright green
With quite the largest ear - of corn I've seen

While peeking up - at that stately ear
Is the cutest pumpkin - how did it get here?
The corn can decorate - my autumn door
While a smiley pumpkin - will add much more...

--C.G. Mack

Wise old tree, thank you for missing our home and shed and fence.

Just when we storm-tossed folks of the East Coast need it most comes the welcome relief of cooler weather.

In my small coastal North Carolina town, you couldn't ask for nicer weather for the Labor Day weekend.  A hint of Autumn is in the air and the sky is Carolina blue with white puff clouds sailing across its expanse.

Though our roads and lanes are lined with walls of fallen limbs and branches and yard rakings, we're grateful that Irene did not make landfall here as a Catergory 3, 4, or 5.

Nonetheless, she blew so hard from the East and West, and for so long, that she quite wore us out.  We're plumb tuckered. It starts with the constant media alerts and warnings, all the weather charts and graphs to consider, the prep, deciding to stay or go, the event itself, and the clean-up and repairs...

I found out from friends and other villagers, that many of us are just now getting grounded again after what I can only think of as "Post-Irene Stress Syndrome."  The symptoms are disturbed sleep, weariness (maybe it's from all that raking and sawing and cleaning up) and a feeling of general malaise. Any of that going around at your house?

Meanwhile, there are hopeful signs everywhere that life continues, grows and flourishes.  A new foal was born to a wild mare on our Banks and some smart person named the new baby horse "Aftermath."  Don't you love it?

Making lemonade out of lemons

Having had to throw out a lot of food, I decided that now that the frig was bare, that this was a wonderful time to clean the appliance.  What better way to channel all the nervous energy I had during the powerless aftermath?

So I took out every shelf and drawer and squirted all with orange cleaner and scoured and scrubbed the whole thing down.  Some food-like artifacts were discovered that might interest an archeologist.  How embarrassing to find these jars of petrified food stuff. The label might say "garlic-stuffed olives," but the visual said otherwise.  I'll not go into details.

My refrigerator sparkles and seems quite new.  My front and back yards are a different story, littered as they are with a million pine cones.

I'd prefer Fig trees to pines...

Love the small town life

Our town and its people were calm, helpful, experienced, courteous and kind.  If you have to go through a hurricane, you couldn't wish for a better crowd to weather the storm with.  We're very lucky.

I love small town life where daily there are sweet reminders that we inhabit a small planet.  At the gym the other day, post-Irene, on the next treadmills, I met the folks who built the house in which I live.

They built it as newlyweds back in 1969.  And the towering pines that now plague us during every blow (one big one fell during Irene) were planted by them to dress their naked lot.  The Forest Service offered the seedlings at $1.00 per.

Now, forty-two years later, the seedlings tower over the house and keep us hopping with fallen pines cones, pine straw and wayward fallen branches and limbs during wind storms--or any time the pines feel like dropping a branch.

This nice couple who planted those seedlings in 1969?  Lovely people, I enjoyed chatting with them a bunch, but I rather wished they'd gone in for Fig Trees and maybe an oak or two.

Well, I'm off to do more raking, it's my new hobby and I've got the blisters to prove it. Wishing you a good night's sleep and a fair settlement from your insurance company

And isn't power wonderful?

Flick a switch and there it is.  What a treasure, eh? Appreciation is what I'm feeling.

Blessed Autumn after a hot summer--I can hardly wait to bake a pumpkin pie--and maybe a pecan one, too.  If the squirrels don't gobble up all the pecans--they're very busy right now in our pecan trees--you can hear them chomping away and throwing the shells at us.

To get you in the mood for coming Autumn, here's a nostalgic and sweet poem from our faithful bard, C.G. Mack:

A  LONE  SENTRY

Autumn---she's soon coming in...

In the midst of my flowers - this year was born
The absolutely tallest - stalk of horsey corn
The stalk, now tan - had been so bright green
With quite the largest ear - of corn I've seen

While peeking up - at that stately ear
Is the cutest pumpkin - how did it get here?
The corn can decorate - my autumn door
While a smiley pumpkin - will add much more...

--C.G. Mack