My Holiday Letter

Winter-at-West-Quoddy by Kathy Glasnap

It is December in Maine.

Frozen sidewalks send me spilling into the street, holding tight to a leash that doesn’t offer help. On my downward slide I notice a squirrel gnawing an acorn. We contemplate each others predicament too briefly, and move on with our respective daylight hours.

I look to the tide chart like a 17-year-old boy looks at Playboy. I study every low and high of ebb and flow. The rise and set of the sun telling me when to expect the phony warmth, the first star. The final column, the one containing the phases of the moon is the centerfold. The swelling orb starts out as an idea and reaches its peak in expected time, only to lull back to peaceful oblivion on the new cycle.

My apartment fills with damp boots, fleecy mittens and Christmas music. Pachelbel and Good King Wenceslas set the mood for my forays in the kitchen and in my writing.

I often find that my writing is frenetic this time of year. Is it the calendar telling me, time to wrap it up? Or, is it the simple joy of knowing that there are so many other things to do, that I better scurry and finish that last chapter, that final paragraph.

I sit at my keyboard, chilled by the air, but warmed by the season of light and of knowing I am blessed…

with so many friends and family,

with memories to sustain me in the times of the waning of the crescent moon,

with ideas that spark out of me daily creating future gifts, plans, reasons for waking up and taking a deep breath.

It is December in Maine.

(A special shout out to Kathy Glasnap for her permission to print Winter at West Quoddy. To see more of her work: http://www.glasnapgallery.com)

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3 Responses to My Holiday Letter

  1. mary-jane wright says:

    once again. well done, Sally

  2. Martha says:

    Beautiful Sally…warms my heart

  3. Trudy says:

    That’s the way it should be. It sounds wonderful.

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