Dec 23

Tell you what, after the holiday, can we have a holiday from the holiday so we can all recover?

We sat down at 7AM, and then, with the exception of tea at eleven (more on that shortly), worked through until almost five, and we have barely scratched the surface of the stuff in the work queue. Then we went out for the evening with family to see what turned out to be an exceptionally odd film, and now there is shortbread in the oven.

After we do this, we have to walk down to the local metro to see if there’s marzipan (there won’t be) to do the Christmas cake for tomorrow.

Oh, and dinner wouldn’t go amiss. That would be quite nice. We had vague plans of reading before bed but the window between now and then is apparently full, so….there’s always Christmas Eve?

But about this tea. It was Earl Grey Spiced Chai. It’s such a mouthful of a name we had to double check it against the packet. It tastes a bit confused. Really lovely tea, but not obviously Earl Grey. The signature bergamot gets lost in the spices. It might be better without milk or sugar, but with it, you definitely wouldn’t peg it for an Earl Grey. That’s not to say we wouldn’t have it again. We absolutely would. We might also give it a different name.

Before we rush out on Mission: Marzipan, have a poem. Nothing to do with names or Earl Grey so much as with the time of year, which definitely looks the part at the moment. Snow everywhere.

A Winter Bluejay
Sara Teasedale

Crisply the bright snow whispered,
Crunching beneath our feet;
Behind us as we walked along the parkway,
Our shadows danced,
Fantastic shapes in vivid blue.
Across the lake the skaters
Flew to and fro,
With sharp turns weaving
A frail invisible net.
In ecstasy the earth
Drank the silver sunlight;
In ecstasy the skaters
Drank the wine of speed;
In ecstasy we laughed
Drinking the wine of love.
Had not the music of our joy
Sounded its highest note?
But no,
For suddenly, with lifted eyes you said,
“Oh look!”
There, on the black bough of a snow flecked maple,
Fearless and gay as our love,
A bluejay cocked his crest!
Oh who can tell the range of joy
Or set the bounds of beauty?

Now, to rescue the shortbread and locate marzipan! Until tomorrow…