Twas the Week before Christmas . . . .

I had planned to decorate the Christmas tree yesterday.  

All morning was spent scurrying around the house, baking and cleaning----then a quick trip to town to grab a couple of items to help finalize the baking. 

During this time, the Irish tenors were belting beautiful Christmas carols from the CD player.  

When nobody else is home, I crank up the volume.  

The experience of listening to exquisite renditions of "O Holy Night" and "Amazing Grace" reminded me why I prefer to put off listening to carols until just before Christmas.

They tug at my deepest emotions.  

They remind me of the reason for the season so much that I slip into sentimentality of cherished Christmases past, on people who mean so much to me and on how much I love them all. 

"Basket case" might be the best way to describe me when mesmerized by  beautiful images, stories and sounds of age-old carols. 

I often believe that the intangibles of the season exemplify its beauty better than anything.

For instance, a telephone call came in the middle of my second batch of those decadent praline, cream-cheese pecan bars.

A former student said he was working on his "bah humbug" attitude.  

He was calling to tell me how much the time he spent in my class and with my yearbook students of long ago meant to him.  

We visited for a few minutes.  

Then, he wished me a deep-felt Merry Christmas.

"Thanks for the gift," I said.

There are,  during this time of year,  reasons to be glad and reasons to be sad.

The object of the season, and, yes, those carols tend to accentuate both.

When I arrived home from my quick run to town, Bill was home from church.

He fixed some lunch, ate some cookies and watched the Seahawks for a few minutes.

The lovely afternoon sun outside was too much.

"What are you planning this afternoon?" I asked.

He wanted to drive up Grouse Creek.

Within ten minutes, both of us had gathered clothing,  gear and dogs.

Off we went.

Grouse Creek Road is plowed up to the North Fork turn-off.  

From that point on, it's sorta plowed, but snowmobiles have left some open tracks for pretty decent walking.

So, we trudged up the road as dogs flitted up one hill and down another on either side of the road.

Not too many squirrels drawing their attention yesterday---just the usual Border Collie frisky fun.

I noted to Bill on our way back that Border Collies never seem bored.  They have the knack to find fun in situations where even confirmed curmudgeons would be complaining.

Our walk gave us a pleasant and peaceful touch of Christmas-card beauty.  

We're not complaining about the light coating of snow here at the Lovestead, but it was a pleasant escape to walk into snow country where tree limbs are laden with heavy white globs of snow.

So, it was a nice outing, especially with the camera.

Grouse Creek offered plenty of classic winter scenes, and the sun shooting its heavenly rays through dark trees was, at times, breath-taking.

Yep, it's the week before Christmas, and I'm still behind on the "to do's."

This Christmas stuff gets to be more than a full-time job, it seems.

What makes it very special, though,  are the occasional kodak moments and those wonderful segments of solitude where Irish tenors blasting from the boogie box remind us so beautifully of its importance.