This time of year

The sky was fairytale blue this morning with wispy clouds drifting off to the east.  I could smell woodsmoke from the neighbor's fireplace when I stepped out to feed the chickens. It was chilly last night leaving a layer of ice as thin as an onion skin on the birdbath.

Our great nephew Jordan's mom had to work today so he arrived early and had breakfast with us.
When the day warmed some, we headed out with an ax. We were on an annual Christmas mission. Each year since he's been old enough to walk, we've cut a small Charlie Brown Christmas tree from behind the barn and decorated it for him at his house.

On the walk down, he and Jilda sang Christmas carols at the top of their lungs. I wouldn't call it melodic, but I can say it was the most interesting version of Deck the Halls that I've ever heard.

The only rule for the Charlie Brown Christmas tree is that it has to be his choice.  Today's tree was actually a good one.

When I cut the small pine down, he insisted on dragging it home himself. He's growing so fast.

This evening, Jilda worked on her Christmas cards for a while. For the last twenty-five years she sketches them with pencil and then paints the cards with watercolor. Each year is a different design.  Some of our old friends have framed artwork with nothing but her cards they've received through the years.

Jilda made an Irish Fruitcake today and slipped it in the oven this evening. Dinner was hard to enjoy because of the aroma drifting from the stove. It was difficult not to sick my head into the oven and eat it while it baked.

But it was worth the wait.

I love this time of year. It's a sensual feast. The sights, sounds, smells and tastes can be so exquisite.