I got about another 30 feet of path cleared today. So far I've mostly use clippers and loppers - things are getting dense enough now that I'll likely drag in my brush cutter.
I was very happy to find the little gargoyle that used to sit on the gatepost. We had a gate between our pasture area and the path to the woods so that the goats wouldn't wander down there. The gate used to be at the edge of the cleared area - now it's about 25 feet in but I found it. I'll have to make another stand for this little guy.
I only cleared for about an hour today because my upper back was really starting to hurt. Eventually it occurred to me that one of the chores I took care of today was emptying out the dozen buckets of water that I had on the front deck - flushing water in case of a sustained power outage if a hurricane hit. But hurricane season is over (Hooray!). I didn't think anything of it while I was doing it - grab a bucket, take it to the edge of the deck, and dump it. But they held about 4 gallons each (so 32 pounds) and there was a dozen of them, so I lifted about 400 pounds doing that little chore.
But being back down in my woods again is making me happy. Good memories. Today I remembered our goose Godwin. My parents had been visiting, and Mom came to tell me that a dog had run into the yard and our goose took off flying and disappeared. We searched for her for several days - but how do you find a missing goose in a forest? But one day we were out in the yard - and suddenly heard a familiar honking coming from the woods. We made a mad dash down, just in time to see her happily bobbing down the stream, honking all the while. In Bob's version of the story that he told people, I went diving in and swam out to rescue her. The truth is that I slid down about 3 feet of bank and then waded in the calf-deep water to catch her as she swam by. But you know the concept: never let the truth get in the way of a good story.
But this post is about Christmas. I mentioned earlier that I just never got into Christmas. It's not that I'm a Grinch or anti-Christmas; it's just not a favorite. Halloween I love - it's about getting to play dress-up and eat candy (so what's not to like?) Thanksgiving is about eating until you can't move, and hopefully expressing a little gratitude - that's OK too. But Christmas? It just seems stressful.
I realized that what bothers me about Christmas is the presents, and the focus being on that. People going arse-deep in debt. People feeling resentful because they spent too much time and money to get the Perfect Present for someone, only to get some small token gift in return. What if someone you didn't expect to gives you a gift, and you didn't get anything for them? The trying to decide what to get for someone.
That used to be a point of Christmas contention between Bob and I. I would start fairly early in December with, for example, "what should we get your mother?" with the standard reply of "I have no idea." This question would be repeated until about a week before Christmas, when I would start pushing, and often get "I can't think of anything - you take care of it" to which I would respond "She's *your* mother!"
There are the common outs, which say "I had to get you a gift but couldn't think of anything" so you go generic: a six pack of fancy beer, or fancy bath products, boxes of chocolates. Or the really generic gift cards ("I couldn't be bothered to think of anything so go buy yourself something"). Gift cards + guilt ("Sorry that it's for Walmart, but I'm broke and that's the only place I have credit" - and yes that has happened to me.)
And the great moment of opening gifts, when you try to plaster a big smile on your face to hide the thoughts of "what the hell am I supposed to do with this?" And seeing that exact same look on someone's face when they open the present from you. Of course, reactions weren't always hidden; Bob's family could be fairly outspoken, and sometimes a gift was received with a "what made you think I would want this?" and then things would get a little, uh, lively. (One time at work a co-worker asked Bob what he was doing for Christmas, and his answer was "oh, the usual - go home and listen to my family argue.")
Poor Bob - every year he had to listen to the Flash Card story. When I was in fourth grade, I wasn't doing very well in arithmetic. Yeah for the Christmas break from school. In those days, Mike and I would get to open one gift on Christmas eve, handed to us by one of our parents. I opened mine - and it was a set of arithmetic flash cards. Nothing like getting study cards for your worst subject for Christmas. I was nine years old and not a good actor, so my disappointment was obvious. Dad (I have to remember that he was a child of the depression) got angry, and said that if I didn't like my gift maybe I wouldn't get any others the next day. Being a young wise ass, I probably responded that if they were like this one, I didn't want them anyway. Things went downhill and I ended up crying myself to sleep. And ever since then I always approached the Christmas gift opening with trepidation (and a smile firmly in place on my face).
There is much I like about Christmas. The pagan concept of celebrating that the days which have been getting shorter for six months will start lengthening again. I like a lot of the music (just not the pop stuff). I like all the food, the fruitcakes and rum balls and shortbread and Christmas cakes. I like the sound of bells. I like people wishing each other well. There's a lot to enjoy about this time of year.
Just not the damned presents.
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