Sums it up, really ...

There's a line in a hymn we sing to the tune Picardy that talks about "hallow(ing) life's brief span", and these short days at the year's turning seem to epitomise that brevity, especially on days such as this. Even though we slept rather later than usual, it was barely light as I drank my morning tea, and by the time we sat down to eat about 3pm dusk seemed to be enveloping us again.

First, a confession: we never did get round to tidying and disposing of the paper and boxes from the sitting room; it was so wet and windy that we couldn't face it. That said, we did go out today, before the rain got too heavy- we walked along the far side of Loch Eck and got a couple of miles in before coming home, drookit. We met a woman with a dog, but apart from her only a pair of scampering red squirrels stirred along our path. 

Coffee, phone calls and champagne then took over, and we sat down to a second Christmas dinner in mid-afternoon. I have never understood people who groan at the thought of turkey and having to eat it on more than one day; perhaps they don't cook it very well. I love the meals at Christmas, and am happy to relate that there will be enough of our bird to eat tomorrow as well. And another thing: if you can't stand brussels sprouts, try roasting them in a little olive oil (hot oven, 20 minutes or so) with sea salt and black pepper. A different creature altogether.

My blip today shows the view I had at dinnertime, with the rain on the window and the red candles showing how long they've been burning over prolonged meals - not to mention their use in warming the brandy to pour over the pudding from a little ladle bought in Quimper along with my crèpe iron. I've never had quite the nerve to light the brandy with the candle flame - leave that to my #2 son. The little reindeer hanging from the candlesticks came in a Christmas card from a member of our congregation who's not back at church yet, being in the highly vulnerable category for Covid. Their glittery fellows propped up along the way are last year's, and the antique brass candle snuffer was a 50th birthday present from a dear friend, and the cup, which also contains a candle, a Golden Wedding present from my daughter-in-law.  We light candles at dinner every day until the evenings are light again - our light against the darkness, literal and metaphorical. 

Thanks, by the way, for all the comments and stars on yesterday's post - this community is fast joining the candles in their defiance of the dark!