Annette: This picture is of my feet, at home, under the tree, after a busy Sunday of the unfamiliar but beautiful ritual of being Godparents to our little nephew. We are not Catholic, but were honored to be a part of the loved little baby's life in this way. I was going to go to Manhattan to see a Bach concert with friends later in the day, but decided to eat ziti and cake with the in-laws, hold the sweet little boy while he slept, and then be home, with feet under the tree. Life moves in cycles and it's wise to rest and be inside when instinct dictates. Says I, humbly.
Erin: Bringing a cold tree into the warmth of our home. Feeling a little sad for taking her life only to have Mike remind me that it is likely a tree's highest ambition to be someone's beloved Christmas tree. Watching Poppy reach out to touch her prickly branches and pull away with a giggle only to to it over and over again. A rather perfect day spent puttering with the tree and decorations, three batches of melt-in-your-mouth buns, a simmering pot of indian spiced squash soup, sanding and finishing the sweetest baby blocks I have ever seen, creating over-sized origami balloons that now rest in the branches of our simply elegant tree. An evening spent scheming and dreaming about our perfect home and village. The house is warm and my spirit light with gratitude. The yin Sunday to last week's yang.