There was a sheen on the rooftops as I opened the shutters. A finger-snap click of cold on my cheeks from the air. Something had shifted towards Christmas, or as close as a Christmas postcard as we tend to find in Provence.
Out with the dogs, Kipling turned and dashed through the grasses, frozen overnight, with manic energy. The shadows tinged blue, broken underfoot. My laughter burst into wispy trails. I felt my lungs expand, bright, as the sun cut through the fog draped on the tops of the mountain on the other side of the Rhône, where I knew that it would be dipping down into the prehistoric graves dug deep into the rock of St. Roman. Old and new, light and darkness blending then, as it does, until the frost began to melt. So I doubled back to get my camera, as I do, exchanging the lenses to my 55 macro so that I could lean in closer.
Looking, I forget where I am. I know that doesn’t really make literal sense and that is why I find it intoxicating. Just a little bit overwhelmed by beauty, that kindred swoon. What a gift it is when our heart beats so hard that the pulse dances in our wrists. For whatever reason.
This is my beribboned box, quite possibly the only that I will open.
It appears that this will be my Year Without a Santa Claus, a holiday as in discordance with the past as all of the 2016 that has come before it.
I know that I am not alone in bubbling up questions of why and how this season. What constitutes full and meaning. Maybe not the only one who is not listening to carols as they are a bit too memory laden this go ’round. Because it has been a confusing time for so many as the moon will tell you if you listen.
Pourtant, I am certain that we are all still somehow searching with childlike impatience, as there are so many presents to enjoy. It may not be typical. And there might not be a tree. But they are most certainly there.
I leaned in. The crystal shards and liquid diamonds reflected hope, dotted and strewn. I balance in the midst of them with crackling knees that are wet in the dew, in good health; being creative, the breath that continues to breathe me. More than a bit lost still, yes, admittedly, but determined. I will find my way. Purpose will come but how lucky that I love and am loved. And that is as good as any traditional mistletoe kiss. This is me, condensed.
Lifting my head, I had to squint from the switch of focus, a line extending from the dance of the minuscule outwards to the far distance. Two forms are engulfed in the last of the golden mist. They are so far on the horizon as to already be in 2017. The corner of my lips lifted slightly as I looked forward to the unknown, in and beyond what the next 24 hours might hold.
With much Love and Gratitude to you for your kindness and continued support throughout 2016.
You are still here. Merci avec tout coeur,
H.
Yes, Virginia, this WAS the year without a Santa Claus! (you know that I can back you up on this one). And I, also, am still having trouble wrapping my head around Christmas. And yet, as you so beautifully pointed out (and we discussed earlier), gifts abound. Much to be grateful for, much beauty to take in – including these amazing photos – who knew frost and dew could be so transportive? I LOVE them. Hear hear on Etsy and calendars! In the meantime, please keep focusing on beauty, puppies and those who are sending you love daily. I think Santa Claus will return in 2017, almost certainly. And please tell me that you watched the "Snow Miser/Heat Miser" song that you linked to!!
Joyeux everything to you. The coming year will be better, it has to be.
Just keep putting one foot in front of the other, and yes, the pictures are even more gorgeous than usual. You have outdone.
Bisous.
The frost makes everything so beautiful. Merry Christmas Heather and may 2017 bring good and wonderful things.
Best wishes Heather. We all have some years that are worst than others. This was your year and it is almost over. Thank you for sharing yourself with all of us. It truly is the greatest gift anyone can give.
Bisous
Ali
Your photos are nearly as beautiful as you are. And you are right about many things, but especially about your being loved. You are so loved, by so many, including me.
Christmas is a thought or a few, a fleeting time when finding beauty (and love) are really all there is. Merry Christmas, dear Heather.
Your images are so lovely, Heather. The dew/frost create some amazing colors and textures. Although this season may be different for you and not the usual, you seem very open and receptive to the beauty around you. You are creating, and obviously growing with every day. Happy Holidays and wishing you a wonderful winter solstice on Wednesday!
You
Hi Heather,
Thank you for your gift of these images and words. It reminds me of advice I was given over 33 years ago as I was being rushed to the hospital for an emergency birth, when my baby was in danger. Just "go with the flow," I was advised. And I did and luckily, because there were a lot of lucky turns that day, he is fine. In fact, I am meeting his plane tonight. When one is open to life's twists and turns, it leaves room for resilience.
But, back to your gifts in the above post. There is one photo in particular that I would love to have as a print to hang in my new house in 2017. A possible business opportunity? Or, better yet, this series would make, as one reader has already suggested, an excellent calendar. Etsy, anyone?
Sending buckets of love your way during this holiday season and beyond.
Who needs Santa Claus when there is so much beauty going free? Your writing and photography are as good as ever. Best wishes for Christmas and good luck in 2017
Beautiful piece, Rocket, moving forward! Wishing you the happiest of holiday seasons!
Beautiful images and equally beautiful words and thoughts, Heather. May Christmas joy surprise you in a most unexpected way!