Dec 24

Here already? Everyone says February is the shortest month of the year, but December gives it a good run for its money, what with the Christmas parties and the shopping and the traditions.

Speaking of, we drew a traditional tea today – classic Earl Grey, no spices or anything fancy about it. Absolutely lovely. It was exactly what we needed at six this morning.

Here’s a traditional poem to go with it. Well, what else would it be? Some things are too good to change.

The Oxen
Thomas Hardy
Christmas Eve, and twelve of the clock.
“Now they are all on their knees,”
An elder said as we sat in a flock
By the embers in hearthside ease.

We pictured the meek mild creatures where
They dwelt in their strawy pen,
Nor did it occur to one of us there
To doubt they were kneeling then.

So fair a fancy few would weave
In these years! Yet, I feel,
If someone said on Christmas Eve,
“Come; see the oxen kneel,

“In the lonely barton by yonder coomb
Our childhood used to know,”
I should go with him in the gloom,
Hoping it might be so.

No one writes a Christmas poem like Hardy. Happy Christmas for us, from the Marschallin Cat, the Dachshunds, and Freddie, the latest of the Marschallin Cat’s many minions. Even if she does mostly swear at him. See you in the new year.