The holidays are ending, though our Christmas tree is still up. It usually is until the Sunday after the Epiphany, the Feast of the Baptism of the Lord.
I'm in that in-between state, both savoring the last few days off with the college girls (we made gingerbread cookies today) and getting myself organized, ready to dive into schedules and routines, prepping for math with Ramona.
But when the holidays end, holidays aren't over. "Secret anniversaries of the heart" happen all year.
Here's to the coming year, here's to a 2016 full of "happy days unclouded to their close."
by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The holiest of all holidays are those
Kept by ourselves in silence and apart;
The secret anniversaries of the heart,
When the full river of feeling overflows;—
The happy days unclouded to their close;
The sudden joys that out of darkness start
As flames from ashes; swift desires that dart
Like swallows singing down each wind that blows!
White as the gleam of a receding sail,
White as a cloud that floats and fades in air,
White as the whitest lily on a stream,
These tender memories are;— a Fairy Tale
Of some enchanted land we know not where,
But lovely as a landscape in a dream.
Tabatha Yeatts has the round up today.
p.s. Ramona, where's my iPod? (I had to cheat with an old tree picture: notice the presents beneath it. My iPod/camera was nowhere to be found.) :)