December. The Direst Month

I told my daughter – nothing ever happens in December. Projects aren’t completed, manuscripts aren’t reviewed, you can write off any professional accomplishments. Not in December. Not gonna happen.

Of course some people are born in December. Others die. Presidents get impeached. It’s just not a month for getting things done. Or a month for writers, either. Too many distractions. Maybe it’s the short days and long nights. My Neanderthal genes say “Hibernate. Let’s make fat.” Nothing I can do about that! We push back at the darkness with strings of lights. Downtown Athens, Georgia glitters among trees and lampposts. My neighborhood could be Disney World.

We listen to music of Christmas from the Middle Ages, thanks to a harpist at Hendershots. Irish strings serenade us at the Globe Bar. At my table sit scientists, writers, artists of many talents. We salute our missing Padre, our sculptor, others who have gone before. No politics or religion intrude on us, not on Sunday afternoons at the Globe.

Sing. Push back at the darkness. The shortest day of the year approaches. The worst of the autumn season is over. Winter, the nastiest of times, will be short. By the end of January I’ll find crocus blooms outside my door.

The cat sleeps in the window, absorbing the sun. Cats know, don’t they? I wish I did.

Dac Crossley
December 16, 2019. Bon voyage, Liz F.

“I am fond of pigs. Dogs look up to us. Cats look down on us. Pigs treat us as equals.” – Winston Churchill.

Comments

[Augie Hicks]

Thank you Dac for slowing us down. We need to remember when the snow is kissing the earth and when raining is clanking on the rooftops, Spring is just around the corner.

[Paige Cummings]

I feel more calm and relaxed in the midst of all the seasonal stress, thanks to this blog. Thank you, dear Dac, for a moment of reason.

[Stephen Baird]

I just read your previous post and, as a Baird, felt it was very special. In my childhood, Christmas trees were magical. And as an adult, I never have lost that impression. My mother loved the Christmas hymns and I loved to hear her singing them. Lots of good memories...
Your cousin, Stephen

[Mary]

I truly appreciate your insights born of long experience, Dad, but I _am_ going to finish a draft of this overdue manuscript this month! Happy Holidays all.