The year�s end clears the
landscape, bringing into focus the simple beauty of evergreens, and the
precious gift of faith, family and friends.
In this year � far more than most � we are thankful that
seasons change. That political seasons end, and that holiday seasons follow,
our focus now wheeling from outward to inward, from the woes of our nation
and our world to faith ... family ... the shared table ... the common
hearth. We now focus gratefully on this season of celebration and hope. On
this season so rich with memories.
Memories of magical walks at night, propelled by the
gravitational pull of familiar places, to our grandparents� home, the moon�s
gauzy glow lighting our way, our cold breath wreathing our red faces as we
approach the house, black silhouette against black sky, rectangles of yellow
light escaping into the inky darkness.
Memories of doors opening wide, those on the threshold
instantly awash in a generous cloud of sweet smells and welcoming voices.
Memories of special feast foods seen but once or twice a
year � ambrosia, fudge, honey ham, divinity, sweet potato casserole, beef
tenderloin, lemon chess pie.
And long past bedtime, memories of wood fires hissing,
crackling, fading into embers, their molten glow transfixing sleepy
children, transforming the everyday den into a magical shadow-world of
dancing darkness.
The political season now past is much like autumn: a riot
of color with a parade of leaf-peepers, eager to watch the showy display.
Always, though, the colors fade, the leaves fall.
And once the bright curtain drops, our eyes behold what
was there all along: evergreens, now on full display, beautiful in their
simplicity, timeless in their power. Faith and family and friends are among
the �evergreens� of this blessed season. To celebrate them, we continue a
long-time tradition and publish a few favorite passages from literary works
of the season.
Late
November brings an end to full-fledged Autumn. The lasting warmth, the balmy
days, the hazy in-between time, seldom endure much beyond Thanksgiving.
Then it is that the pines and hemlocks stand out in
cold-season strength of green; then the white reach of the birches is clear
and clean against the sky ... The season changes so slowly that I must pause
and listen to hear the silence.
Autumn creeps away in sandals woven of milkweed floss;
Winter makes no noise until it owns the land.
� Hal Borland, This Hill, This Valley, 1957.
Imagine a morning in late November. A coming of winter
morning more than twenty years ago. Consider the kitchen of a spreading old
house in a country town ...
A woman with shorn white hair is standing at the kitchen
window. She is wearing tennis shoes and a shapeless gray sweater over a
summery calico dress. She is small and sprightly, like a bantam hen; but,
due to a long youthful illness, her shoulders are pitifully hunched. Her
face is remarkable � not unlike Lincoln�s, craggy like that, and tinted by
sun and wind; but it is delicate, too, finely boned, and her eyes are
sherry-colored and timid.
�Oh my,� she exclaims, her breath smoking the windowpane,
�it�s fruitcake weather!�
� Truman Capote, �A Christmas Memory,� from Selected
Writings of Truman Capote, 1956.
�Good Spirit,� he pursued, as down upon the ground he
fell before it: �Your nature intercedes for me, and pities me. Assure me
that I yet may change these shadows you have shown me, by an altered life!�
The kind hand trembled. �I will honour Christmas in my
heart, and try to keep it all the year. I will live in the Past, the
Present, and the Future. The Spirits of all Three shall strive within me. I
will not shut out the lessons that they teach. Oh, tell me I may sponge away
the writing on this stone!�
� Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol, 1843.
This week, many will be reminded that no explosion of
atoms generates so hopeful a light as the reflection of a star, seen
appreciatively in a pasture pond. It is there we perceive Christmas � and
the sheep quiet, and the world waiting.
� E. B. White, �The Distant Music of the Hounds,� from
The Second Tree from the Corner, 1949.
