Copyright © Louise Bostock 2007-2013. Please give credit where credit is due.

Friday, 19 December 2008

Having time to stop and stare

Six degrees at 9am, with a beautiful apricot morning light bouncing off the snow-covered peaks. As I stopped in the middle of Cannobio on the way to scuola materna to take a quickie piccie, a small admiring crowd developed (the light, not me). This is part of the reason why I like Cannobio people. The warm wind that was hinting to me yesterday wasn't around today, but the sun felt warm-with-wintry-overtones, if that's possible.

The first winter camellias are starting to show, and our Christmas houseguests will shortly be upon us. Yikes! It seems to me that calling Christmas a Fixed Feast must be some sort of elaborate, clerical joke. Christmas is definitely a Moveable Feast and always comes sooner than you expect. That's if you're a parent (read secret Santa), of course. If you're an excited child of four, however, Christmas takes an awfully long time to arrive.



Copyright © Louise Bostock 2007, 2008. All rights reserved. Please ask first.

4 comments:

Cairo Typ0 said...

To this day i don't know how my mother pulled off Christms all those years. I know my father was little to no help and yet she kept everything under control and perfect. Mothers are the secret elves of the holiday season! :)

Louise, Carmine Superiore said...

I'd agree with you there. One year my parents gave me the giant (and I mean about a metre high) teddy bear I had fallen in love with. How they smuggled it into the house without me seeing it, I don't know. I think my father's workshop, which was usually out of bounds to kids, was a useful repository.

LadyFi said...

My sister also got a metre high bright blue teddy! And we didn't see if until Christmas Day. Oh - those lovely memories!

Anonymous said...

Hi Louise,
I remember that teddy, but can't remember how we kept it a secret. I do recall your naughty brother finding the christmas pressies in our wardrobe and in his excitement tearing the corners off the paper to see what there was in them. How disappointing was that. He never got the chance to do that again.
Dad.

Friday, 19 December 2008

Having time to stop and stare

Six degrees at 9am, with a beautiful apricot morning light bouncing off the snow-covered peaks. As I stopped in the middle of Cannobio on the way to scuola materna to take a quickie piccie, a small admiring crowd developed (the light, not me). This is part of the reason why I like Cannobio people. The warm wind that was hinting to me yesterday wasn't around today, but the sun felt warm-with-wintry-overtones, if that's possible.

The first winter camellias are starting to show, and our Christmas houseguests will shortly be upon us. Yikes! It seems to me that calling Christmas a Fixed Feast must be some sort of elaborate, clerical joke. Christmas is definitely a Moveable Feast and always comes sooner than you expect. That's if you're a parent (read secret Santa), of course. If you're an excited child of four, however, Christmas takes an awfully long time to arrive.



Copyright © Louise Bostock 2007, 2008. All rights reserved. Please ask first.

4 comments:

Cairo Typ0 said...

To this day i don't know how my mother pulled off Christms all those years. I know my father was little to no help and yet she kept everything under control and perfect. Mothers are the secret elves of the holiday season! :)

Louise, Carmine Superiore said...

I'd agree with you there. One year my parents gave me the giant (and I mean about a metre high) teddy bear I had fallen in love with. How they smuggled it into the house without me seeing it, I don't know. I think my father's workshop, which was usually out of bounds to kids, was a useful repository.

LadyFi said...

My sister also got a metre high bright blue teddy! And we didn't see if until Christmas Day. Oh - those lovely memories!

Anonymous said...

Hi Louise,
I remember that teddy, but can't remember how we kept it a secret. I do recall your naughty brother finding the christmas pressies in our wardrobe and in his excitement tearing the corners off the paper to see what there was in them. How disappointing was that. He never got the chance to do that again.
Dad.