Steward who sits in the shadow of his tail
We had planned to drive to Terrace today - our first opportunity to do some Christmas shopping - but another foot of snow fell during the night and we will have to wait for another day. This is the first time (that I can remember) that I have not done any Christmas shopping, mailed any cards, or decorated the house - well, there is a feather tree and a lighted candle in the window.
Nostalgia has set in. Perhaps it is the absence of sharing the season with family that I miss. Or perhaps in this silent, white world I just have more time to reflect on memories of singing Christmas carols in a choir, reading ‘Twas the Night before Christmas to my sons when they were small, putting together wagons and filling stockings, baking and decorating cookies; remembering smiles and hugs at airport arrival gates, and trimming many, many Christmas trees over a long lifetime of Christmases.
This is a different kind of Christmas, sitting in a log cabin surrounded by snow; watching a red squirrel's antics, Bob and I laughing when she leaves us a small ball of pink insulation in exchange for the nuts and fruit we placed on the stump for her. Is this what you call “a gift exchange?” Dancer lives in the white spruce tree just outside the window, right next to Sammy’s Creek. Her midden of cone scales litters the snow beneath the tree, and each day she blazes a fresh trail from her tree to the woodpile at the front and side of the cabin. She stands on her hind legs, front paws clasped at her chest, her tail curved over her back… and looks through the window at us. “Do you see me? Do you have a filbert for me?” Of course we do, but I much prefer to watch her stripping seeds from the Spruce cones – it is her natural food. The scientific name for the red squirrel is Tamiasciurus hudsonicus. A big name for such a little creature, but today I learned that the latin word Tamiasciurus means the “Steward who sits in the shadow of his tail.”
It is almost dark now (4:30 p.m.). We see the flashing yellow lights of the snowplow going past our driveway. Tomorrow we will try again to make it into Terrace, and Christmas shopping.
... P. L. Morningstar
Dancer's Gift
Nostalgia has set in. Perhaps it is the absence of sharing the season with family that I miss. Or perhaps in this silent, white world I just have more time to reflect on memories of singing Christmas carols in a choir, reading ‘Twas the Night before Christmas to my sons when they were small, putting together wagons and filling stockings, baking and decorating cookies; remembering smiles and hugs at airport arrival gates, and trimming many, many Christmas trees over a long lifetime of Christmases.
This is a different kind of Christmas, sitting in a log cabin surrounded by snow; watching a red squirrel's antics, Bob and I laughing when she leaves us a small ball of pink insulation in exchange for the nuts and fruit we placed on the stump for her. Is this what you call “a gift exchange?” Dancer lives in the white spruce tree just outside the window, right next to Sammy’s Creek. Her midden of cone scales litters the snow beneath the tree, and each day she blazes a fresh trail from her tree to the woodpile at the front and side of the cabin. She stands on her hind legs, front paws clasped at her chest, her tail curved over her back… and looks through the window at us. “Do you see me? Do you have a filbert for me?” Of course we do, but I much prefer to watch her stripping seeds from the Spruce cones – it is her natural food. The scientific name for the red squirrel is Tamiasciurus hudsonicus. A big name for such a little creature, but today I learned that the latin word Tamiasciurus means the “Steward who sits in the shadow of his tail.”
It is almost dark now (4:30 p.m.). We see the flashing yellow lights of the snowplow going past our driveway. Tomorrow we will try again to make it into Terrace, and Christmas shopping.
... P. L. Morningstar
Dancer's Gift.
posted by Looking for Hope | 5:04 PM
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