I was driving home from the grocery store today and saw a mother and what I presumed to be her high school daughter decking their home with lights, bells, holly, and even faux Santa Claus figures. It was one of those excessively done jobs (a la Lampoon Christmas Vacation)--so much so that I sensed the teen's chagrin. I wonder if that's why her back was always turned to the street--never exposing her face, her identity. It was wasn't it? So she wouldn't be seen by her fellow school mates driving past. I would have done the same. It wasn't cold enough for a full on, burglar style, ski mask.
11/29--Autumn Falls Into Winter
The leftovers have been consumed (perhaps so much so that roast turkey, gravy, cranberry sauce and stuffing won't sound appetizing until next year), the out of town family members have made their treks back to their homesteads, and the house has the uncanny whisper of lonely winter knocking on the double front door and the window panes...a few weeks early. It's the coming of darkness at too young of an hour that really reaches the senses dolefully. The Thanksgiving excitement weens away and the Christmas cheer has really yet to blossom. Perhaps what I need is the Christmas decor. The nutcrackers, the wreaths hung with their red bows, the carolers. It's always charming to drive through Fairfield, CT's downtown Post Road with it's dimly lit street lamps ornately swaddled with white Christmas lights and pine garland. The feeling becomes heightened with Brian McKnight's sultry vocals on his 'Bethlehem' album (in fact, I'm listening to it as I type this), perhaps joined by a hot apple cider riding shot gun in the console or a peppermint stick lazily resting on your lips and tongue.