Bed askew with straw, rummaged leftovers of the menageries’ last meal. A stone space quarried like the heart of a small ark, opening just enough to cradle the straw. The stall, open planks no match for the midnight chill, gaps lasering light, streaming in on stone. Mother draped in simple cloth, teenaged hands trembling as she lays her infant in the place of the animals’ meal. Suckling sounds as He stares, still, into the sky where the host of Heaven lift voices through the spheres Announcing His presentation, which, as the young father recalls, would at last be everything. Merry Christmas, friends.
There can be no manner of doubt a name is more easily remembered when its meaning is understood. –A.J. Macself, from the Foreword, “Plant Names Simplified” I forgot to plant my amaryllis bulb the week of All Hallow’s Eve. I wrote about the practice in my Christmas season book, how planting a crinkly, brown bulb with antenna-like roots can be a lesson in patience and waiting during the Advent and Christmas season. But I was too busy to remember. Goodness. So, I potted the inglorious bulb the other day after soaking the accompanying ground-up coconut shreds in warm water, watching them miraculously expand and nearly overtake my 32-ounce glass measuring…