New Year's Eve

When we were talking in class one day about holiday rituals — both the cultural significance and the environmental impact — a student from Country Famous for Cigars said that his family always gathered around a bucket of water on New Year's Eve. They'd put their hands into the water to release all the stress and worry of the old year, and then the oldest family member would toss the bucket of water out the door.

Our tradition here is to spend a quiet evening at home, with a fire in the fireplace and the kids playing music. We have a big meal right after midnight, something that my mother's family always did. Beautiful Smart Wonderful Daughter and Boy in Black went out this afternoon to get groceries for the meal: they are in charge of it this year.

We don't have a bucket of water, but we do have a fresh layer of snow, several inches of it. I like beginning each year in a landscape that is clean and white, like a new page of paper.

Underneath

When I was a kid, my favorite place to dig a snow fort was under a pine tree. That way, instead of just a white cave of snow, I could have a roof made of pine branches, the green needles holding snow against sky. I'd dig out a spot near the trunk, just big enough for myself, and settle back into the snow, feeling cosy and comfortable and protected by the branches of the tree.

From marbles and piracies

The world vanishes

A rush of warm air created a thick fog that rose up from the melting snow as I took the two little neighbor kids, who are four and eight, on a hike through the woods. They'd both been feeling sad, but soon they were stomping through puddles of slush and screaming with laughter. We walked farther and farther into the woods until we were surrounded by snow and ice and the dark shapes of trees.

"Do you know how to get back?" Little Biker Boy asked nervously. I pointed out landmarks to him to show him that I knew where we were. "That's the dancing tree. And see the orange ribbon there? I put that on the tree myself. That's the boundary line." Finally, I asked him to look down and figure out how he could find his way home. After a few minutes, he noticed our footprints, which made a path through the wet snow. He sighed with relief at this knowledge.

Ponytail clung to her new Christmas doll as she stomped happily into slush and scrambled onto fallen trees. Little Biker Boy kept asking me the names of trees, and after I pointed out the tracks of a white-tailed deer, he was eager to follow its trail. He agreed with me that the trunks of the beech trees look just like the legs of elephants.

Both kids were soon wet up to their knees. I took them to the spot I come to when I'm feeling sad: a fallen tree which makes a great place to sit. Wet snow came dripping down off the scotch pines, landing with little splashes. The kids sat on the log for a few minutes while I walked around and took some photos.

"It works!" Biker Boy said. "I don't feel as sad!" Ponytail said nothing, just hugged her doll tighter and took a bite from a handful of snow.

Walking back through the snow was more difficult and decidedly less peaceful. Ponytail, obedient to the rule of four-year-olds everywhere, decided she needed to be carried, even though she'd been full of energy the whole way out. Little Biker Boy waded too far into a puddle, and his boots filled with icy water, which caused him to wail in agony until I took off my boots and gave him my dry socks. By the time we emerged from the woods, I was as wet and cold as the two kids, and happy to return to the warmth of the house.

No secrets you could keep

An elegant weapon for a more civilized age

One morning back in November, I came downstairs in the morning to find Boy in Black in the living room, still awake, with his laptop. He's a nocturnal creature, so I wasn't terribly surprised. I mean, this is the kid who stayed up all night to design an R2D2 to go with his Halloween costume.

"What're you doing?" I asked casually as I went into the kitchen to feed the cats.

"Research," he said.

I looked at him in surprise. "Research?" It's true that he does some research with a physics professor, but it seemed unlikely that he'd be doing it until 7 am.

He gave me a sleepy grin. "Yeah, I'm researching light sabers."

Ever since dressing in a Star Wars theme for Halloween, he and his brothers have been playing with plastic light sabers — toys we bought the last time Star Wars paraphernalia was in vogue. They sometimes duel inches away from me in the living room. Yes, my youngest child is fourteen, and I still find myself saying, "Isn't that an OUTDOOR toy?"

Frustrated with how easily the cheap plastic toys broke, Boy in Black searched online and found two guys who made sturdy light sabers that were "duel-worthy." He showed me a youtube clip of the sabers being dropped out of a second-story window onto a cement sidewalk or being tossed into a pool. Clearly, these two guys had our family in mind when they designed the sabers.

So Boy in Black ordered four of the sabers: one for himself, one for each of his brothers, and an extra one for whichever extra was over at the time of battle. When the sabers came, he hid them in my closet and worked on small modifications, exchanging emails with Light Saber Dude about the details. He gave the sabers to his brothers on Christmas mornings, and the three boys retreated into a closet to test them out in the darkness.

Hanging with the family

We spent Christmas Eve and Christmas Day at my parents' house — mostly eating and talking and then eating some more. My family has the ability to devour enormous amounts of food. By the afternoon of Christmas Day, little groups had settled down to play games. Blonde Niece, Boy in Black, Shaggy Hair Boy, and Blond Brother-in-law were playing cards at the folding table that had been set up as the kids' table. Another group were playing a board game in front of the fire.

Dandelion Niece coerced a few family members to play the strangely addictive game "Set" in the living room. Anyone not involved in a game was busily talking — one group sitting at the kitchen table, finishing up the homemade pies, and another near the Christmas tree. Well, except for With-a-why and Suburban Nephew, who were running around with nerf guns, shooting people.

Boy in Black and Shaggy Hair Boy had stayed up all night right before Christmas Eve to record a CD for the family. With Shaggy Hair on the piano and Boy in Black on the guitar, they played a dozen songs — some traditional holiday numbers and then some jazz favorites thrown in for good measure. The CD, which they called "Melodic Sea's Groovin' Sleigh Ride" played beneath the chatter in the house.



My daughter and my father, planning their next music session.

Christmas present

Dandelion Niece holds up the gift that her mother, who is my red-haired sister, got for Christmas. A five-pound slab of chocolate.

Baby of the family

At church on Christmas morning, With-a-Why leaned against me, his head snuggled against my shoulder. How sweet, I thought to myself. Even though he's a teenager now, he's still affectionate with me, especially when he's sleepy.

When we stood up to go to Communion, he turned and whispered to me, "I hope the lice is gone. Or else, you're screwed."

Happy holidays

At my parents' house yesterday, I looked the window to their backyard, to my father's snow-covered garden and little red barn that served long ago as a stable for an appaloosa horse. It looked like a holiday photo. I was thinking that I should put on my boots and go out outside with my camera.

Then I glanced at my parents' computer and noticed that the desktop photo was the scene that I was planning on shooting. My father had already taken the photo.

"Hey, email me that photo for my blog," I said.

My father looked at his computer and shrugged, "Okay."

Then I sat back down by the fire with a hot cup of tea.