Tra la la

Tra la la
Originally uploaded by kai smart.

It was rainy on Christmas. Perfect. When it rains at my parents' house it becomes a misty and green and dripping world with tendrils of fog spiraling out of valleys like a japanese floating world painting.

Nothing for a girl to do but pose on the front porch with a Venetian masquerade mask. In the cold rain.

My weekend was good. Christmas used to mean intense magic for me, almost a spiritual experience. Secrets and woodstove fires in the cold dark country nights...the smell of pine, sharp, sweet and pungent. The possibilty of an intruder down the impossibly small stovepipe. Reindeer and gingerbread and an awareness of the top of the world, where it was dark all the time and bitter and lit by oil lamps and soft jingling bells.

Now it means the sedative power of soft couches, quiet (country quiet is almost a sound in itself), and enough food. I feel sleepy just being there. The fog and clouds close in around the trees and the house and hug it tight. We are at the will of the flowing water and dripping trees and mudslides, and the punishing dark and torrents of rain. The way it should be. Nursed by nature in the wild depth of winter.