Heavy rain. Hard blow. High tides. The holidays. And knitting.

We went to bed too early last night and we are awake too early.

Over the past ten days, the high tide has washed all the way into the hedge and everything moved around. Sand shifted in and off shore, basalt stones revealed and tumbled at the inland edge of the shore, drift logs and our neighbor’s rose clippings have shifted position. Our entire path has washed away and the large stones set as steps through the hedge are half gone. We were afraid the enormous drift log that had lived for many years in the neighbor’s hedge would plant itself in front of our house. The tide lifted it and drew it out into the surf. It moved south to the front of our house and then away. For a while it was grounded a couple of hundred yards north of us, but yesterday it had shifted even farther south.

It rained and blew a gale last week and we had no power from one in the afternoon to the early morning hours. When power returned, we had internet for a while then it went out for a full day. The weather was intense enough to keep us indoors for a couple of days, but as soon as wind and tide let up we were out. We got wet, but not chilled. We had one “inside” walk on the local road, and managed on shore in a hard scramble over dark stones. We found a great many bits of polystyrene foam, bits of boat foam, the ends of knotted plastic rope—the usual. Some noticeable erosion. Agates as big as my fist washed from banks to the north of us, and we gathered sea glass. Almost no shells. We look forward to our walk this morning after missing a couple of days.

We drove both to and from Portland and our family without incident in the past few days, though the freezing level did drop to below the height of the passes.

In the post-holiday sales, I found raw materials to begin planning for next year. I have sorted silks for a quilting project, and I have plans for quilted cotton pillow covers and woven wool shawls or ruanas. I have in mind to kit more socks, though they are more work than anything.

Now that gifting is over for the year, I should review the books I liked enough to give away: Men Explain Things to Me by Rebecca Solnit was my favorite nonfiction read this year—a brilliant and intelligent collection. The Bird King continued my love affair with Shaun Tan who wrote The Arrival. Both are short and thought-provoking, reasonable as gifts because neither is long and Tan’s retrospective is visual rather than text.

I received several books myself and I am particularly eager to read a pair of novels from my daughter-in-law’s father. Wonderful gifts!

The best was time spent, time and energy, talking and laughing. It is so rare a thing to be in a room with people you love and like with nothing dragging you off. Late in the afternoon, Gary took the photo of me asleep in a chair (knitting in my lap), Alan and Emily snuggling, and the grandchildren watching the Muppet’s version of Christmas Carol with Ian. Adults sprawled in various parts of the house after eating and the excitement of wrapping paper and hugs. Holidays should be a balance of smiles and exhaustion, I think.

 

We host a family party on Twelfth Night and I am considering how to seat eleven people. The big dining table might have to go back into the dining room. Are the grandchildren old enough for a kids’ table? There was often a kids’ table when Gary and I were children.

Menus have been written and revised. I have been testing recipes. Everyone should be able to eat everything. I will need to make room in the refrigerator for a party.

And I am thinking the grandchildren should have a teddy bear tea party. Invitations will go out next week.

Everything shifts and changes but some things, including the bare facts of change, remain.

We came home yesterday morning to a kitchen with mostly empty counters. Canisters, bowls, tools, beach pebbles, condiments, microwave. I had cleaned everything off in order to reseal the stone and only put back half of what had been there. It looks so nice, I think it will have to stay this way. The internet was working. I finished knitting (for a while). Gary did laundry. I folded and put away. The whole house is gradually becoming what I wish it always had been: containing only what is beautiful and useful and chosen and loved. All comfortable with one another.

That includes family.

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Gary reminds me that thirty years ago today he had exploratory surgery on his leg (injured by an elephant eleven years prior). I sat in the basement waiting room and when the surgeon finally came to tell me, I knew it was going to be okay because Dr. Boz was a good person. He’d found a benign tumor and repaired it.

The post-op nurse had to keep assuring Gary as he came out of the medications that his leg was still there. He bled for longer than they liked and that was in the days before testing for HIV, so they did not want to give him a transfusion. They had to keep him overnight, and Jonsie took care of him, but all was well.

I drove him home through snow with a Pendelton blanket over him. He could not climb stairs but slept in the boys’ room and sat in a recliner for weeks. He was warned not to jump, limped for three years, but later he was able to run again. He says I took care of him and he “got all better.”