It’s raining outside. At least, I think it’s raining. It keeps trading off between a heavy, wet snow, then ice, then rain. Right now, I think it’s rain.
It’s been this way since I got up this morning - cold, grey sky; cold wet something, falling on the ground, trying to freeze, sometimes succeeding.
What better day than this to begin taking down Christmas decorations. After a family-filled Christmas, the house is now quiet. The garland and lights have been stripped off the banister, packed in a box along with the stockings - all to be put away in storage for the next eleven months.
The ornaments are off the tree. Soon the lights will be off, as well. By the end of the day, the tree, having served its purpose, will be sitting curbside, waiting to be taken away to wherever it is old Christmas trees go to fade away.
Soon, the spaces once occupied by the tree and other various decorations will be filled with the more mundane encroachments of everyday life.
It’s quiet in the house.
And it’s raining outside.
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1 comment:
Post coitum et Christmas, omnes animalia sunt triste.
(Sex AT Christmas is, of course, an entirely different matter.)
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