Monday at 25 degrees

It's cold outside, folks! So cold the air feels like it has crystals forming. Eyes, nose and mouth feel like they could easily harden and freeze. I'm not at the point of wondering why we live here but I can imagine in about 2 months, I'll start saying that. Fortunately, there's only 3.5 more months till Spring. And really, it's not officially Winter yet. Mr. Nelson has taken to two minute bathroom outings. Wise dog.

We bummed around all this weekend. Did very little and I guess that's all right every now and then. Went to the new pet shop and Lydia decided we needed to adopt a little black kitten. We didn't and I explained she had to get permission from our four other cats. This helped reduce the tears but she was still a little sad. I could tell this reasoning made sense esp. after I told her how each cat responded to a new arrival. Basically, every one of them got into a fight.

The next day we slept in, missing UU church again and slowly got food to eat and lay around. I guess it's the cold or something. Maybe we're in mini-hibernation mode or something. It's kind of funny how we just do that. One of my favorite children's book writers, Tove Jansson, writes about Moomin's. They are trolls that are round, thoughtful and curious creatures. I sometimes feel like we're a bit like this at times. Sometimes we're like Hemulans or Filijonks and I guess I'm a bit like Little My. I love the way Jansson captures personalities and real human expression. There are some lines that strike me as right to the heart of how people behave and think. I'll have to look some up, I think.

Recently, I was rereading a book of short stories based on the Moomin's book. One was about Christmas titled "The Fir Tree" and how Christmas was coming. Some creatures like the Hemulan, are so anxious about it they wake up the Moomin's from their hibernation. The Moomin's get into a mild panic and think Christmas is a monster. They find they have to cut a tree for decorating, get presents and make their favorite foods. The touching thing about this is they are being watched by little woodies who are either too poor or small to create a Christmas.

After all is done, the Moomin’s wonder about Christmas and when it's coming. The woodies say it's already here and the Moomin's are surprised. My favorite part of this story is this:

"Merry Christmas," the woody whispered shyly.
"You're the first to say some such thing," Moominpapa said. "Aren't you at all afraid of what's going to happen when Christmas comes?"
"This is it," the woody mumbled and sat down in the snow with its relations. "May we look? You've got such a wonderful fir tree."
"And all the food," one of the relations said dreamingly.
"And real presents," said another.
"I've dreamed all my life of seeing this at close quarters," the woody said with a sigh.

There was a pause. The candles burned steadily in the quiet night. The woody and it's relations were sitting quite still. One could feel their admiration and longing, stronger and stronger and finally Moominmamma edged a little closer to Moominpapa and whispered: "Don't you think so, too?"
"Why, yes, but if..." Moominpappa objected.
"No matter," Moomintroll said. "If Christmas gets angry we can close the doors and perhaps we'll be safe inside."
Then he turned to the woody and said: "You can have it all."

The woody didn't believe its ears at first. It stepped cautiously nearer the fir tree, followed by all the relations and friends with devoutly quivering whiskers.

They had never had a Christmas of their own before. "

“The Fir Tree” -Tove Jansson


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