You’d think being heartbroken over losing Roscoe would mean no Christmas decorations, but you’d be wrong. Part of my survival strategy is squeezing every little bit of joy out of every little thing, whether it’s Fred the hummingbird hovering like a jewel outside my office window or cuddling with Clyde before the alarm goes off in the morning darkness.
I decided more light and sparkle were needed, so I hauled out the aged Christmas tree:
and twined lights up the driftwood banister:
I put the wreath on the door:
The mistletoe in the middle is a gift from an 8 year old admirer, “So you’ll get lots of Christmas kisses.”
I realize I never did show you the lights on the tree in the outdoor living room:
So the house is cheerful and sparkly on the rare occasions when the power stays on. It’s been a wild and stormy couple of weeks, in more ways than one.
A YEAR AGO: The horror of interviewing for what would turn out to be the hell job. Ignorance can be bliss, and interviews can be better than the actual jobs.