It was a wonderful weekend. Friday night found us at the Settler’s Village Festival of Trees. The highlight of the night was definitely when the roaming men’s choir dressed in top hats performed a private concert for the kids. Poppy spent the rest of the evening following them from one cabin to the next. Finally she found the tiny church where their voices floated out onto the cool night air. She walked in without hesitation and found a pew as though she had done it a hundred times before. The church was dimly lit by lanterns and smelled of kerosene oil. I can’t quite describe what happened next, but it was a magical moment of sorts. She gazed up at the choir in their top hats and her face became full of awe and purpose as she suddenly began “singing” with her whole heart. Her mouth opened wide and her little voice went up and down just as the choir’s did. Now she enjoys the odd song and loves to dance, but will often become annoyed when I sing. It was like an ancient memory had enveloped her in that sweet little church filled with lamp light and song; as though she was remembering so many Christmases of past. When it was time to leave, instead of heading for the door, she walked to the front of the church and one the gentlemen gave her some bells to jingle. She turned to me and exclaimed “Santa’s coming!” so they sang Santa Claus is Coming to Town while she rang the bells. She then said thank you and waved goodbye; we were off to see the rest of the village.
The rest of the weekend was spent at home moving wood, organizing, and cleaning until we ventured into our woods to collect some pine boughs. With sticky, pine scented hands we attached pine boughs to our front porch and then strung some white twinkle lights into the tangled branches. As I thought of how it might look with some soft snow falling I was filled with the electric warmth of the season. I thought about how sweet it is to go into our own backyard to collect everything we need to do our winter decorating. I thought about how we will celebrate this Winter Solstice as it has never been a tradition in either of our families. I thought about tobogganing down our gentle slopes with bellies full of warm oats and cinnamon.
Yes, our most favourite season has begun.
go gently + be wonderful