Tipi Wind Christmas

The sun sets deep in the winter solstice and the Christmas cactus is in full bloom. The north wind scours a wilderness landscape that resembles perpetual fall, for snow is a commodity that may or may not arrive in time for the holiday.

Robin decorated the house before the first of December, she would have done it sooner but they don’t sell Christmas trees before Thanksgiving. At this moment she is downstairs baking a constellation of Christmas cookies, time honored favorites that I often times mistake for breakfast.

 We find ourselves empty nesters these days, our boys having fled to pursue careers and relationships in other parts of the country. I thought for a moment that I would have to join a support group for empty nesters, but the dogs, cats, and horses have filled the void admirably. El Gato, the timid one, has taken to decorating the house with his presence, lying amongst the packages under the Christmas tree or careening off the legs of an unsuspecting host. His brother, who needs no invitation, takes liberties perfecting his lap dance whenever Robin and I should happen to sit; of course this makes the dogs insanely jealous, for they are exiled to the sunroom by night, never to set foot in the inner sanctum.

After this morning session of crafting pros, after yet another cup of tea and honey, I will take my leave to work out in the basement, pumping iron before Robin and I take our daily walk. Bundled up with dogs in tow, we will skirt the canyon rim, or maybe . . . we’ll load the children in the pickup bed and drive them to the river for a hike, or maybe . . . I’ll just stretch out on the leather sofa for a nap instead, for my immediate future now depends on how many Christmas cookies I eat in the next hour.

 From our Camp to yours: Merry Christmas.

 Gene & Robin

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