Christmas Day.

Today is Christmas.

The sky is a brilliant blue. The tops of the pine trees lay golden against the sky and the wind sings in the tree tops. The percussion of melting snow insistently punctuates the distant laughter of children sledding with their new gifts.

The air is clean, moist and sweet.

Wispy clouds dust the horizon in light shades of mulberry and the rolling hills glow in streaks of rust and blue.

It's so quiet and clean.

I need for nothing walking on the dirt road and no matter which way I turn, the light is amazing.

I feel my thoughts move inside like wet hands in a warm mitten.

Everywhere I go here, it feels like home.

I simply cannot imagine how to fly west, now.

Main Street, Brattleboro, Vt. On a snowy day before Christmas.

"In my little town...God keeps his eye on us all. And he used to lean upon me, when I pledged allegiance to the wall. Coming home after school. Flying my bike past the gates of the factory..."


As we drove through town the other day I started taking photos to share with those few people out there who spent their childhoods here near Brattleboro, Vt.

So much is still the same, yet it has evolved so much since we moved there in 1968.

It sure wasn't the "Little San Francisco" it is, back then.  It's interesting to remember this.

Five days until Christmas

There is snow. Lots of it. As far as the eye can see and still more landing every second.

White snow falling thick and silently on the world from every window. So clean and soft and quiet.

It's a few days before Christmas. We don't have a tree up, yet. And Santa has yet to drive into NorthPollaboro to stock up on goodies, yet.

My parents who we came out to see barely see us in the moments the weather will allow before pulling shut the curtains on sane travel.

We stay in a snug, modern, one bedroom wood cabin which now has heat and water and lots of tall windows which look out over the meadows and trees. It is a very lovely, and remote place to be snowbound in.

There's not a working television or a cell phone that has service, but a modem, so this is the way I maintain my technological fix with the universe.

The quiet is meditative. I sift through my memories of Christmas past and present to reexamine what lasts and what is inconsequential.

Like seashells I hold the recollections and turn them over and release them or carefully place back in the pocket of my mind, like a perfectly round stone, a shell still pink and shiny on the inside.

Time slows down. Air feels sweet in my lungs. There are no extraneous sounds reminding us of what year it is. Simplicity is the best Christmas gift I could wish for, and I treasure these quiet moments to catch my breath in this manic world.

We interrupt this blog to go to Vermont. The state, not the avenue.

I realize up till recently I've been recounting a strange tale from La La Land, but I need to interrupt that story to announce that my story has been upstaged by a trip to visit my parents for the holidays. They live in Vermont.

Right now we are visiting them for Christmas. My kids and I flew the day of the historic ice storm from Southern CA to the other side of the country. We are in the very cold and snowy wilds of New England in the Brattleboro, Vt. area. Newfane, Vermont, to be exact. My husband joined us 5 days later. It's certainly been an adventure. I put all those seasons of watching Survivor to good use when we tried to stay in a cabin without power one night.

My parents have lived in the small, very humble town of Guilford, Vt. since 1968 and once or twice a year we are lucky enough to make a pilgrimage "home" to see them.

This year's pilgrimage was in time for the end of "the ice storm of 2008." Which having just been through the "wildfires of 2008" seemed rather familiar, only much colder.

Since the power is not on in certain areas here yet I want to say that I have deep and profound respect for those guys out in cherry pickers who have shown up every single day to toil long and hard out in the frozen roads to repair our power sources. I have seen them lined up at night trying to find rooms here in the main town (Brattleboro) and I feel for them.

We had initially rented a cabin in Newfane, but that cabin didn't have power till a few days ago, so my girls and I stayed at two different hotels in Brattleboro and every day there were armies of guys in brown overalls driving cherry pickers lined up at dawn to head out to the closed, wet, frozen roads again.

They leave at 4:15 AM and don't return till around 9 PM. These guys as well as the firefighters out in California are the people who hold it all together for us, and I just want to comment on how much I appreciate their hard work. They really do "work" for a living.

Needless to say - it's due to these folks that this nation carries on.

I feel fortunate tonight to be back in our little cabin with the power on and running water, again.

This recent collision with some of the harsher sides of nature had a unexpected boon: I got to know many locals here in town I would never have met, if we weren't all puttering about during the day in order to stay warm and keep the kids from bouncing off the walls.

I spent lots of time in places I once did as a child, our town library. No, libraries: We spent time in both Brattleboro's public library and the Guilford Library. Both places, I'm pleased to report were charming places to be marooned in. I highly recommend you check them out in your next ice storm.

My parents seem to be managing well considering the current frozen weather, but I fear that if they're power ever is knocked out that they would not fare as well as they have this month.

Without power, Vermont goes from charming to scary very quickly.

Oh, well. I will continue to suggest the obvious, that they move closer to town. And they will continue to ignore me.

One day, I hope they find a place to live that isn't quite as remote, but there's no telling a parent anything, I have learned. I should know, I am one and clearly I am doing my part to continue the tradition of stubbornly refusing to see reason.

I'm using someone else's computer to upload the photos I took of the ice storm taken three days post storm.


It's hard to believe anything this beautiful can actually be this dangerous. But the days following the ice storm looked like the world had been dipped in diamonds. It was a fairy tale land of glittering, twinkling limbs and branches.

In one month's time I have witnessed the fires of Southern California and one of the deadliest ice storms in New England's history. Just lucky, I guess.

Both events were dramatic and beautiful and put all of us mortals right smack in our places here on planet earth.

Our Thanksgiving trip

Just returned from amazing family Thanksgiving event near Sacramento, CA.

Four generations of family on my husband's side of the family.

Over 260 photos.  

I can honestly say it was one of the best Thanksgiving's I can ever recall having. Much to be sincerely grateful for.

Click link to see them all:

Thanksgiving day 2008 at Patty and Paul Larsen's