A Winter Tapestry (Part - I)

 

I have always loved a calm period in between Boxing Day and New Year when one is no longer driven by pre-Christmas panic with a long list of preparations, shopping and getting the jobs done before Christmas. The hours and minutes seem to slow down and we can, with a restorative cup of tea in hand, relish the colours of the sky at the sunrise once more. 

The radiance from the winter sun highlights the tiny frost-flowers on the hills where no hand can reach. The smooth glassiness of the sea sparkles like the windows of Chartres. Calls of the seagulls and cormorants echo more loudly over the fields.  A spectacular sunrise is the gift of winter and the celestial assurance. The end of this year has especially caught up with me sooner than I would have wished.  

 

After a frantic week, now I can take a breather and I like to steal away to a quiet corner to complete my journal entries.

8^th December (Wednesday)

We delivered the gifts to our friends this morning. The news on the radio warned that Covid cases are likely to increase further as new figures indicate infection rate in Scotland. We are not sure what will happen with our plans for Christmas this year. 

This is my 10^th Christmas in the village and I have a plan to celebrate with my friends. Much is at stake with all the possibility of re-introduction of social distancing protocols and limits on gatherings at Christmas. I am expecting two of my friends from England to join us for Christmas but it looks very unlikely with the threat posed by Omicron. The Scottish government adopts tougher Covid measures and my friends from England are concerned that they might be stranded in Scotland if the government decides to close down the border. Their concern is valid and there is certainly no case for complacency. But it is a bit of a downer on the sense of anticipation.

 

We stopped by at S’s house this morning to give her Christmas gift. S is such a talented artist and quilt-maker. I treasure all her patchwork quilts as they are the gifts from the heart. She is always very thoughtful. I think that the gifts tell so much about the giver. I cannot wait to open her gift on Christmas Day. It came in the most beautiful handmade gift bag.

 

When we arrived back home, we had a surprise delivery from Gordon’s friend. How kind of him to come and deliver some edible gifts – delicious handmade macarons in the shape of snowman – from French patisserie firm, Almondine which was recently opened near his home in Inverurie. 

 

We had tea and macrons while we listened to an album of the counter-tenor Philippe Jaroussky and the classical guitarist, Thibaut Garcia. Out of the whole album, my favourite song is Septembre, a well-known French song, originally sung by Barbara.

 

PHILIPPE JAROUSSKY, THIBAUT GARCIA - À SA GUITARE (We listened to Philippe singing a beautiful French song by Barbara called Septembre. Here is a link to the song)

Septembre is such a beautiful song and I think that Jaroussky interpreted it very well. Jaroussky’s counter-tenor voice does not have a heavy operatic tone and this is why his voice is suited to a song like Septembre. I thought what a beautiful song to listen to especially on a dark winter day.

 

The song is about love and its loss, the pain of saying farewell and longing for a reunion. The singer says: “Maybe love will return to us one evening at the turn of spring. Oh what a lovely time it will be, the time of reunion.” The remainder of the lyrics talks about that the dream he has of that beautiful day in May “when flowers will look more beautiful than ever, when the vines will have beautiful grapes, when you will return to me with the swallows. Because you will return to me…” What an offer of sweet solace this song gives on a wintry afternoon.

 

Gordon is going to make a Christmas cake by using his favourite recipe.

9^th December (Thursday)       

 

A damp and misty morning. The news said that hundreds of people are now queuing in the cold outside the vaccine centres across the country to have their booster.

There has been a delay with the post as so many postal workers are obliged to self-isolate after they come into contact with people who have the virus. I hope that my online order for Gordon’s gift arrives on time.

 

We went out to buy a Christmas tree this morning from a farm. It was much quieter than we expected. We were the only customers there as if all life had fled from it.  We found the right size tree that is well-proportioned and not too bare (it has enough branches to put on all the lights and ornaments).

 

When we got back home, we put the tree in the living room and gave some water to the tree. We listened to Christmas music (John Gary’s Christmas album). We let the tree rest for 24 hours before we started to decorate it.

 

The postman arrived at 3 o’ clock and delivered the parcel which contained a gift for Gordon that I had been expecting. I think that we have learnt to appreciate and value the service that we have taken for granted from the postal workers, along with other essential workers, who worked through the lockdowns even at the peak of the pandemic to deliver our food, medicine and parcels this year. They are the unsung heroes of the pandemic.  

I asked Gordon if there is anything he wants for Christmas. He told me that he has been looking for the two volumes edition in English translation (by Sophie Wilkins and Burton Pike) of the Austrian novelist, Robert Musil’s (1880-1942) magnum opus, The Man without Qualities. It took me awhile to find the second-hand copy in a nice condition but I managed to track one down from an online bookseller in Germany.        

 

Christmas gift for Gordon - the two volumes edition in English translation (by Sophie Wilkins and Burton Pike) of the Austrian novelist, Robert Musil’s (1880-1942) magnum opus, The Man without Qualities. 

Before we had our afternoon tea, I wrapped Gordon’s gift.

 

10^th December (Friday)         

 

Too busy to write my journal today. I have been wrapping Christmas gifts and delivering them. As the Covid cases surge, the government urged to limit our social interactions as much as possible. We are definitely not seeing the dear ones from England for Christmas. It will be just four people from two households for our Christmas dinner. Two other friends will join us on Boxing Day for afternoon tea. Everyone we met told us that they have no intention to participate in an orgy of Christmas consumerism just now and that they are happy to stay put until they find out what will happen with this Omicron variant.  

 

Last night, we decorated the Christmas tree.

 

21^st December (The winter solstice, Tuesday)

 

A quiet, elegiac morning with no birdsongs. Today is the shortest day of the year. I am already dreaming of spring when we will be returning to our beloved Cumbria (the Lake District) for our holiday and to that little cottage in the middle of a valley, a sanctuary of peace and solitude, of calm and restoration. 

And where would I be but on some high riverbank with the silent waters at my feet or somewhere near the fields with the daffodils, wild flowers, white campion, primroses, lady’s smock, agrimony…all of which can be observed on a fine day while leaning on a five-barred gate. It makes one forget about intrusions from the world outside.     

Perhaps, Albert Camus might be having the same dream when he wrote: “In the depth of winter, I finally learned that within me there lay an invincible summer.”