At the risk of being pedestrian. Or maybe a little ‘Tuesday’…
MERRY CHRISTMAS.
Though for the animals down here on the farm.
Christmas Day is like any other day.
And any other day is All About the Food.
I wanted to say something deep and meaningful about Christmas. But when I look deeply I really have not so much to say. Christmas like the Tooth Fairy and The Easter Rabbit is for children and their people. And bless their shiny faced smiles I want them to have wonderful christmas’ses. But then we, as adults, grown up and without the children anymore spend so much time trying to recapture that innocent child-like delight. And though we are all grown up – it is still there: that child-like delight at a wonderful surprise. Or simply a gentle day without the bother of having to keep anyone else happy but yourself. I love those kinds of days.
I hope you have a lovely and delightful day. Alone or with others. (Personally I prefer alone no-one bothers you on Christmas day).
And thank you. Honestly, you are good and kind. Thank you. Thank you for allowing my animals and I to be a part of your Christmas Day.
As a special treat I am wondering if you would like to share with me/us -any Members of the Fellowship, who like me are not swamped in family and would love the distraction – an early Christmas memory. Maybe even your first precious Christmas memory. I will add mine into the Lounge of Comments after some thinking – (around FIFTY – SIXTY words? is that enough?).
Like many of our posts – the real reading is in the Lounge of Comments.
Love, love,
celi
The Kitchen's Garden 
76 responses to “Good morning”
Two favorite Christmas memories, both involving my two grandmothers. One always baked and although she would not often visit on Christmas, she would send cookies. It wasn’t the holiday season until Grandma’s tin arrived with the crunchy noodle/chocolate drops, the chocolate chip cookies, and the pinwheels…my favorite. My other Grandma, who almost always spent Christmas with us, would save her pennies all year and then present them to me for Christmas. I seriously believed I was the richest 6-7-8 year old on this earth, getting so much money each year.
So pleased to hear from you. We have been hearing dreadful tales about the tornados and after you writing about your neighbours barn i was so worried…so i assume you are ok? To me christmas is not the glitter and lights ,presents or turkeys its about the the love which each of us should show to others. Its the. anniversary of Jesus birth. He shows love and care all over the world to the sick and homeless,the depressed and lonely. Love thy neighbour is what i am told so i do..with all my heart.
Stay safe Miss C….stay safe xxxx On 25 Dec 2015 13:08, “thekitchensgarden” wrote: > > Cecilia Mary Gunther posted: “At the risk of being pedestrian. Or maybe a little ‘Tuesday’… MERRY CHRISTMAS. Though for the animals down here on the farm. Christmas Day is like any other day. And any other day is All About the Food. I wanted to say som” >
My wish is for Daisy deer to show up this morning so I can run off to the woods with her. I woke up with a black cloud hanging over me and a pair of horns on my head. But, as I read all of these wonderful memories – thoughtful, funny and humbling, I know that there is goodness in all of our stories. I am thankful for the Fellowship and this cup of coffee. It is my favorite place to sit for a while and feel the love. 🙂
Someone as beautiful as you should never feel down!
I agree. Funny how photos and words make us feel we know someone. You do not look someone who could grow horns and a black mood. I hope it passes.
Blessings on you Celi. Merry Christmas to you and all of yours ; ) Each morning with coffee I look forward to the farmy post. All the funny antics of your ‘children’ . I love Boo.
Christmas is about so much more than Santa for me. It’s. A time for reflection on all that God has done. I gather with family and together we celebrate His faithfulness. We will be 16 people around the table today. Two new grand babes joined our family this year.
My earliest memories are of the stockings. Digging down and feeling around for the treats. My adult children still love their stockings and this year I filled 14 of them. Each one contains something handmade as well as the usual candies etc. I better get going. Christmas is here.
Blessings on you Celi. Hugs from Canada
We are the luckiest I think… You and I. To have The Fellowship of the Farmy. I am now off to see my Christmas movie (my own tradition that John has joined me in) and when I come back I shall read more of these fantastic stories and add mine.. The Fellowship is a wonderful place to be! Merry Christmas.. c
Merry Christmas, Celi! what movie did you see?
I remember the excitement of the Christmas stocking. The tangerine and Brazil nuts and the little toy that was hidden in there. Sometimes there was foil wrapped chocolate! I remember tobogganing in the moonlight and having hot chocolate out of a thermos. The snow glistened and our family hooted and hollered in the cold crisp air. Then coming inside and Mom hanging your mittens by the stove to dry.
I wish I knew how to send Garrison Keillor’s recent essay on his Christmas memories. It was in the .chicago Tribune this past week. A both hilarious and touching account of his childhood Christmases.
In Germany Christmas Eve is the big event. When we came home from church our tree was lit with real candles and we got to open our presents after we ate dinner. We sang Christmas carols and told stories.
When I was 7 my Dad had been stationed in Germany and we were in NJ waiting for our transport. By the time we (my Mom, my sister and myself) were able to join him, we had been separated 3 months and it was just days before Christmas. We were very excited to have Christmas together in this new place but by the time we got to the PX (post exchange is a general store on base) the only decorations were all pink and the only trees were heavily flocked. It was a truly ugly little tree but the best tree I have ever had and our best Christmas ever. We were together!
I have tried for years to block Christmas memories, hoping instead to plant new ones based on the old faith that perhaps inspired all these family rituals–but instead I keep waking up, like another guest, with a dark cloud and horns on my head. And that is why I feel blessed to be able to visit, Miss C. There is a freshness, gentle humor, and warmth in your words along with an openness about your experiences of life. Everything here blows to smithereens–just like the wind did that old barn– my tendency towards a darker view of the world and a focus on my own struggles with faith and hope. Love is clearly present here in your posts and in the lounge. I am grateful, and wish I could meet everyone of your international farmy family for a cheery afternoon meal with toasts and stories while the animals listen and smile.
We moved to this farm from the city when I was 8. That first Christmas, my Mum and I decorated every stall in the barn – the two little calves, the two horses (we were boarding for others), the 2 pigs, the six steers, and also the chicken house. Fir boughs, holly and red ribbon swags on every door. The barn was and is decripit and dusty but it looked beautiful that night. We went to church after supper, and then us kids went to bed. Later my parents woke us up and took us to the barn. With flashlights we tiptoed in, speakign in gentle voices so that the animals knew we were there but wouldn’t be disturbed. We sat on a couple of hay bales and my Dad retold us the Nativity story, which had special meaning as we imagined Mary and Joseph and their baby in just such a place as this. Dad also told us that there was a legend that said that the animals could speak at midnight, a special gift because they had been the first to bend their knees to Jesus. We were still as mice, straining our ears to hear what we could not imagine. I only heard rustling and a bit of munching, the breathing and snuffling of the pigs who were closest to where we sat. No speech that I understood. But who knows?
I have many happy memories from childhood Christmases, too many to know where to start. So I’ll just share that once I grew up, my Mother told me that she would slip a little bit of Valium into our post-midnight cocoa after the Christmas Eve service at Duke Chapel, to ensure that we slept. I still usually woke up around 6 and peeked through the keyhole into the living room to see the tree glowing with joy. Merry Christmas, miss c, our John, farmy residents, and fellowship.
I was born into big families on both my mother’s and father’s sides. They grew up in a small village in northern Ontario. At Christmas we would gather at one or the other grandparents’ homes … and then spend the entire day running and playing with cousins from both families. My mom’s childhood home had a narrow staircase with very well worn steps painted with slippery grey paint. We would come single file down those stairs to find what was under the Christmas tree. There was a tale in those days that Santa left potatoes for children who were on the naughty list… The first thing I noticed was a label peeking out of my stocking with the word ‘Potato’ on it. I was mortified – likely KNEW I SHOULD be on that naughty list … and hid on the stairway for a long time before some kind aunt showed me it was a ‘Mr. Potato Head’ toy!
I remember that I was often sick at Christmas. There are pictures, year after year, of me by the tree in my pjs, looking pale and red-eyed. I had asthma and it seemed to like holidays to make appearances. The Christmas I remember most was the year my parents were low on money. It must have been in the late 60s after they’d bought our new house. Money was tight and we were pulling ourselves along on two professors’ salaries. We were told not to expect much. And so we didn’t. But when we got up at 4 a.m. and went to the tree, there were many more presents than usual. It was a bounty. As an adult, remembering those gifts, including a plastic crossbow with “suction”-tipped arrows that we shot all over the house, I realize that they were all cheap gifts, but that my parents had wanted it to feel Christmassy. We didn’t want iPhones and iPads, so for us all those cheap plastic toys were heaven. I think of that Christmas often. It was quintessential childhood.
My favorite Christmas memory actually took place in July. When I was 4 1/2 we took a family camping trip to Colorado where I met the real Santa at his summer residence. He told me he was tired of all the milk and cookies and preferred popcorn and rootbeer. So in our home, Santa got a big ol’ bowl of popcorn and a bottle of rootbeer every Christmas eve.