Christmas week left me feeling distinctly unChristmassy. This is normally my time of year, I plan for it, I plot, I find items all year round that would be the perfect thing for any of the Banshees or DBS or Mom-in-law. All of which I did this year with my normal amount of enthusiasm right until Christmas actually got here. A few days before Christmas I realized I had a profound case of "meh". Christmas got here this year because of inertia, I think, and because the Banshees would have been unhappy if it hadn't happened. All I'm doing now is enjoying the whole get to sleep-in thing and looking forward to getting back to normal.
Okay, the mom-in-law dropping by Christmas morning? Loved that. Also loved the look on the Banshees' faces when they got to the gift, the one they never even saw coming but was what they wanted more than anything else under the tree, and DBS loved what I got him so that was totally cool. But me? Meh.
What I was happy about? I planted my two Wickson crabapple trees and so far nothing has eaten them, which is good, because they came to me as beautiful as can be expected for two bare-root, year-old mail order apple trees and I want them to thrive and become more beautiful. They are supposed to get as tall as 14 feet and to be very good pollinators for a variety of other apple trees, which why I settled on them, considering I have very little self-restraint when I get into a new enthusiasm. (Say it with me: Wickson, Arkansas Black, Sierra Beauty, Gravenstein, Winesap, Blue Pearmain, Pumpkin Russet, Wolf River, Saint Edmund's Russet, Newtown Pippin, Black Twig, Foxwhelp, Niedzwetzkyana, Red October, Twenty Ounce, Victoria Limbertwig, Winterstein. (Italics are the ones I don't have, but would like. Some day. When I get more land than I have now! But color it as good as gone that Wolf River and Saint Edmund's Russet are going to make an appearance on the current acreage.) I see a micro-market garden in the suburban desert, and the mini-orchard is part of my starting that eensy project.
I lost my neurotic hen to a very determined coyote, but none of the other birds were harmed. Maybe this will be the year I find my Trout runner ducks again. It's a good, tidy little dream to have. I'm happy with the winter this year because I look into the back yard and see the bones of possibility - if the weed trees come down here, then I'll have room for a couple of apple trees more. If I get the land weeded and worked and shaped to my purposes, then I'll have room for the duck pasturage and Hopping Goose Farms might be able to produce one or two veggies and some staple crops. I might be able to put some root storage in back there, in time, with hard work and patience and a touch of money.
I am happy that, while I don't have the money quite yet to spend on getting Hopping Goose off to a roaring start, I do have a few dollars and dimes here and there to do the small and necessary things. I'm grateful beyond words that I have the money to pay the bills we run. I am happy that we have the possibilities we have, so that even if our modest dreams seem beyond our reach, getting to the foothills of those dreams is not.
So the Christmas magic flatlined a little for me this year. There is other magic.