Things to Remember for Next Christmas

You won’t get any work done.

If you can’t find a tree, don’t panic. It’s Wisconsin.

Open car doors when attaching tree to roof.

Buy favorite champagne early.

Always drink champagne before shopping for tree.

Get lots of fresh air.

Balsams smell amazing, but don’t last as long as frasiers.

Go to at least one concert.

Buy and wrap presents early. HAHAHAHAHA

Listen to husband when he says tree looks great without ornaments.

Taking down the tree is a miserable job. But worth it.

Chex Mix.

Brown Thumb

I suppose I should begin by saying that although my gardens thrive, I am terrible with houseplants. I am so terrible, in fact, that my husband makes little “Help me” voices when I bring one home. My friend, Julie, after yet another botanical demise, recently told me that she would never give me a plant again. But a few years ago, I was inspired by my niece’s spectacular living room trees, and was determined to try once more.

So I bought two of the same variety, and remarkably, after three years, they are not dead. One, in fact, is a beautiful, lush, tree. The other is a pathetic stick with a couple of leaves sticking out.

They live in our sunny bedroom, and in the summer I put them out on the patio to soak up the sun and rain. From the first summer, the one immediately thrived and grew. The other languished. I tried switching their positions outside—no mean task because they are in big, heavy pots—but it made no difference. I brought them in for the winter, and the healthy one kept getting healthier, and the listless one continued its malingering.

Last summer, though, things took a turn. The healthy one grew spectacularly. The wan one kept falling over because it somehow collected water in the pot, and no matter what I did the soil kept turning into a marshy soup. Since they were only about five feet from one another, theoretically receiving the same rainfall and not under a drain pipe or anything, it was puzzling. And since we were mostly at the lake, I lost track, and the poor thing nearly drowned.

By the time I was paying attention again, plant one was spectacular, but plant two was in dire straits. I stood it up, added rocks and more soil, and brought them both inside. They both got fertilizer—probably at the wrong time of year—and as life became busy, I resumed my pattern of neglect.

About three weeks ago, I noticed that plant two had three teeny leaves growing valiantly from its spiral trunk. I was doubtful, so every day I have double-checked. They continue to grow, and so far, seem determined to persist. I am being careful to pay attention, not to over or under water, and I switched positions of the two plants so the desperate one gets the benefit of whatever the healthy one had last winter. The healthy one is…healthy. It’s getting so big, I’m not quite sure what to do with it.

But maybe now the pathetic one will grow, too. My New Year’s resolution is for it to match its boisterous friend.

Hoping for advice, I asked my niece about her beautiful living room trees. They died.

Last day

Our adventure with our eldest grandson began August 26th, and now we’re down to our last day. We had a quite splendid Christmas holiday together with his little brother and mom. As my daughter said, we are lucky to be a family who all like one another. Not everyone has that.

This morning we are going out to breakfast at a place our grandson likes, and the afternoon will be spent doing laundry and packing, and resting for the thirty-plus hour trip home. The boys’ dad is planning a big welcome home party for New Year’s Eve. I hope the boys can stay awake for it.

Tomorrow morning we will take them to the airport, and when we come home, the house will have an emptiness that even Auggie and Eli can’t fill. I’m not quite sure how it will feel. But it will take me a few days to recover from the mad energy of boys.

And then will begin the slow un-Christmasing of the house, which, depending, can be either depressing, or a fresh new beginning.

I used to have a cleaning lady who took down the Christmas tree for me. Oh, how I miss her.

And now for your gratuitous dog photo.

Moses: In Memoriam

Four years ago today was one of the worst days of my life. We were flying home from seeing our new granddaughter when Moses went over to our dogsitter, put his head on her arm, gave a deep sigh, and died. He was seven years old, and the canine love of my life.

In the photos I can see him grow from a tiny fierce-eyed puppy to a loyal, intelligent, and fearless companion. It’s also clear from the photos that Pete was the boss. I miss them both.

You can read the story of my love for Moses in my latest book, But Still They Sing.