19 December 2010



 oddly the holiday that brings pine and holly
brings a stillness no rustling of green can shutter.

as with Loss, December races to catch us-coming in red and green.

children never wonder at the slight trace of sadness in a beautiful mother's smiling face-
a granmother's happy forbearance of mistletoe. 
women who have lost father, sister, little siblings, parents, husbands-
the faces that shown brightly in their midst-
how they must have shown just a bit brighter in holiday's waning candle.

memory that glows to crackling when a December day closes-
 memory that comes cautiously close-peering through the tinsel and lights.
caressing Us down that old wooded path to Love.

it is right to remember.
it is good to find these loving spirits stirring you.
remembering a day when nothing else mattered but Love. 

in loving memory and celebration of my father-February 4,1930-December 19, 2004, my parents wedding anniversary of December 23, 1951, & my grandparents anniversary of December 24, 1918.

painting -Vilhelm Hammershøi. Interior with Young Woman seen from the Back..


  1. Beautiful, sweet memories. What a lovely tribute.

  2. It's the perfect illustration for the sentiment, and now that I am no longer able to celebrate Christmas with my mother, I appreciate these words all the more. And my grandparents were married December 20, 1910, a hundred years ago this week ...

  3. The perfect painting for remembrance and honor.

  4. Oh so lovely! I'm all choked up. I still miss my very special mother who was so full of love and life.

  5. Lovely sentiment, thank you for sharing it with us. The memory of my sweet Furry Eccentric, Rudy, has cast a shadow over this holiday. It has brought with it equal parts melancholy and laughter. I wouldn't have it any other way. Wishing you an incredible holiday!


  6. My Dog-Eared Pages has left a new comment on your post "spirits":

    Just beautiful... and 'it is right to remember.' I love this tribute in every way. Thank you for the very words I'm feeling a lot, right now

  7. You got me all teary! So many I miss, my grandparents, good friends taken through accidents or disease in the midst of live...I always remember!
    What a touching post!

  8. My beloved MIL died on December 23 over 30 years ago. Still remember everything about that. The opening of gifts she had chosen and wrapped before she died (and finding other gifts hidden about the house that she had not had time to wrap). The putting together of toys for our toddler while discussing funeral arrangements. The funeral that celebrated her love for Christmas, especially the music. The Christmas tree with its happy gaudy lights (she liked the big juicy ones) shining on without its mistress at home before the fire, completing her NYT crossword puzzles...in INK! We remember her everyday, but the sound of bells in the night will always give me goosebumps.

  9. That was lovely, Gaye.
    And the illustration that accompanied it was absolute perfection.
    The artist was unknown to me until now, so thanks for
    bringing his work to light.

  10. Oh, this is so beautiful. I have tears in my eyes. Thank you for sharing. Yes, it's good to remember.

    I've been wanting to do a post on Vilhelm Hammershøi for quite some time now. I'm so glad you chose this painting to convey your feelings P.G.T. It really is perfect.


  11. We have lost quite a few loved ones in the last four years, young and old, and the memory of them is stonger and more heartbreaking during the holidaysand at family gatherings, where they are so very missed.

    Thank you for such a lovely tribute to their 'spirits'.
    xo J~

  12. That was lovely. Thank you very much for posting it. Christmastime holds that same special poignancy for me too. I lost my dear wife to breast cancer in January eight years ago. She particularly loved Christmas and everything/everyone associated with it. Two of her final joys were getting the Christmas things ready for me and our two children, and readying the house for the large Christmas gathering we have hosted for the past 25 years, even though she did let me do most of the work that year. The kids and I still do it all and have the party. I sit here now in the decorated living room with the tree lit and her beloved snowmen set around the room, and remember that at Christmastime, she lives just for a little bit again, in that way you describe, just for the three of us.
    Best -
    - Mike

  13. I love the work of Vilhelm Hammershøi, and this work in particular. It seems a very fitting tribute to the memories you have for this time of year.

  14. You always have such a way with words and images and capturing a natural appreciation for the quiet that tugs at my heartstrings.

  15. Thanks! It's this combination of reflection on the past and anticipation of the future that make this holiday so wonderful!

  16. Perfect!Thank you for this post. It is important to know not everyone shares the joy of the season with a full heart. For some the season is tinged with sadness & loss.

  17. This was lovely, a most beautiful entry. It set in order some feelings, some unquiet thoughts about my own loved ones, no longer here. Thank you for this, many times over. It meant more to me than you know.

  18. This post! I found it again, oh thank god, I loved this post of yours, put it in my journal, all printed out, and as it sometimes happens to our precious things, that journal, 30 years in the keeping, shortly after December 2010, disappeared. Of course I began another, and as December came about this year, I thought of your post and the painting of the woman and the sideboard and the tureen, and how you talked of how women keep Christmas in a different way than men or children, that they feel the spirits, see the spirits, recall the voices, and then you go on to say "It is right to remember." I cherished your words that December two years ago, and I cherish them still, and I cannot tell you how good I feel to have found "Sunday, December 19" once again, it calms the heart and makes me feel like I've come home. That's the best I can explain it, and the most I should even try. Thank you for giving yourself to me,and to us as you do; it's a gift that is beyond and above any price. Merry Christmas to you, Gaye, and yours, and to all of you who might read this, who share the joy of Little Augury.

  19. this means so much to me, I can not say, but it brought tears to my eyes. thank you. gaye



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