A pretty little fir tree

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An excerpt:

     Out in the forest there stood a pretty little fir tree. It had a good place, for there was sun, plenty of air, and all around grew many larger trees. But the little tree thought of nothing but growing.

     "Oh, were I but a large tree like the others!" the little thing said. "For then I could stretch out my branches far around, and look out into the world. The birds would build nests in my branches, and when the wind blew I could nod as proudly as the others."

~ from The Little Fir Tree,

written by Hans Christian Andersen

This story of a fir that grows up to become a Christmas tree is a sad one, for the fir never learns to enjoy its life at the moment and is always wishing for greater things. It's easy to look at the past and wish things were like "the old days" or to look towards the future, hoping for something better than what we have now. I believe, however, that it's best to try appreciating the present and all the blessings surrounding us right now. What do you think?

From the ether...

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"As soon as I could write, 

I wrote poetry, 

and I guess I must have 

got stuck then 

because I'm still doing it.  

Why?  Because it is so satisfying.  

A thought springs 

to one's mind from the ether, 

then turns to words that fall 

into lines and shapes and sounds, 

get rearranged, form a picture, 

shout a feeling, weep, laugh. [...] 

And all in time to see 

the whole thing come to fruition, 

hold the finished work in one's hand, 

sometimes without even missing dinner."

~ Felice Hoffman, 

in The Place My Words are Looking For

I really like how Hoffman describes writing poetry here and I agree -- it is so satisfying! I really need to do more of it. What do you think about what she said?

Wassail

You may have heard the old Christmas carol, The Gloucestershire Wassail, with the chorus that goes like this:

Wassail! wassail! all over the town,

Our toast it is white and our ale it is brown;

Our bowl it is made of the white maple tree;

With the wassailing bowl we'll drink to thee.

This week's word is wassail [wo-seyl], a noun meaning "a salutation wishing health to a person" or the name of a drink at festivities, especially spiced ale. In addition, wassailing is another word for caroling house to house.

Our local high school choir performs a Madrigal Celebration every December. At one point during the show, all of the guests are given a cup of warm wassail (not ale, but rather a mixture of apple cider and orange juice) to toast to the king and queen while the choir students sing The Gloucestershire Wassail. It's always a fun part of the holiday season for me! :)

Here are some examples I came up with, using this week's word:

When I was younger, 

I loved wassailing with my friends 

at Christmastime! (True story.)

Please pass the wassail.

Wassail to you!

Have you ever tasted wassail or gone wassailing? How would you use the word in a sentence?

Snow

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Snow

Snow has magic
in its touch.
It makes the world
change very much;
it bends the hands
of spruces low
with fluffy mittens
full of snow;
it turns the road
and house and yard
into a great big
Christmas card.

~ Aileen Fisher

It has been unseasonably warm here lately and we don't have any snow at the moment. I hope we will get some soon because I love how it magically changes the world around us, as Fisher says in her poem. I'm ready for my house and yard to look like a Christmas card! How about you? Do you like the way snow looks?

How long will we feed them?

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An excerpt:

     The snowman stood alone... but only for a short time.

     "They have eaten everything... even the carrot nose," whispered the little sister peeking out from behind the evergreens.

     "Let's put out more seeds and corn before they come back," encouraged the brother. "The animals will never know we were here."

     "How long will we feed them?" she asked.

     "For a long, long time," he replied. "After the snow has gone and the snowman has melted away, until the frogs start to sing and the trees grow new leaves."

~ from Stranger in the Woods, 

written by Carl R. Sams II & Jean Stoick

We don't have any snow on the ground at the moment, but I am wishing for a winter wonderland. I love snow and making snowmen... and would love it even more if a snowman of mine attracted the attention of some wildlife like the one in this story! How about you?

Writing all the time...

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“I assume that what I’m doing 

is writing all the time — 

even though I’m actually 

doing something else. 

When you are stuck and you go out 

into the garden to pull weeds, 

you are still writing. 

Part of you is. 

That’s why it’s vitally important 

to have a notebook beside your bed. 

Often the resolution of a difficult bit 

that I wrote the day before, 

and that I was stuck on, 

will trot along in front of my eyes 

when I’m lying in bed just waking up. 

So writing isn’t just 

sitting in front of the keyboard,

 although that’s a fairly vital part of the process. You’re still being a writer 

when you are reading or making notes, 

or just enjoying yourself.”

 ~ Terry Pratchett, 

in The Wand in the Word: 

Conversations with Writers of Fantasy

I like what Pratchett says here about writing and writers. Even when I'm busy doing something, fun or not, my mind is still working on my stories and poems! Have you ever noticed that happening to you?

Snow-Flakes

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Snow-Flakes

Out of the bosom of the Air,
  Out of the cloud-folds of her garments shaken,
Over the woodlands brown and bare
  Over the harvest-fields forsaken,
    Silent, and soft, and slow
    Descends the snow.

Even as our cloudy fancies take
  Suddenly shape in some divine expression,
Even as the troubled heart doth make
  In the white countenance confession,
    The troubled sky reveals
    The grief it feels.

This is the poem of the air,
  Slowly in silent syllables recorded;
This is the secret of despair,
  Long in its cloudy bosom hoarded,
    Now whispered and revealed
    To wood and field.

~ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

For me, snow usually brings happy thoughts to mind, but in this poem snow takes on a sad, melancholy feeling.  I love the imagery in Longfellow's words and also the sounds, especially the last two lines of each stanza. My favorite line, though, is "This is the poem of the air,/Slowly in silent syllables recorded" -- to me, that is simply beautiful. What do you like (or dislike) about this poem?

An entire world...

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"To read a book 

is to hold 

an entire world 

in the palm of your hand." 

~ Arthur Schopenhauer

I love this idea of a book as a world. How many worlds have you held in your hands this year?

Convivial

The word I want to share with you this week is convivial [kuh n-viv-ee-uh l], an adjective that means "friendly", "agreeable" and also  "merry company" or "festive". I think it is an appropriate word for the holiday season. :) 

Here are a few examples I came up with using the word:

She is so convivial, it's contagious!

Lights, decorations, gifts, fun movies, delicious food... 

the holidays always make me feel convivial.

With his twinkling eyes, big smile, distinctive laugh, 

and heart of gold, Santa Claus is the 

epitome of a convivial soul.

What ways can you think of to use the word convivial?

Winter Moon

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Winter Moon

How thin and sharp is the moon tonight!
How thin and sharp and ghostly white
Is the slim curved crook of the moon tonight!

~ Langston Hughes

I don't know about you, but I can't believe that it's December already! Where did the year go?? 

I know that winter doesn't officially start for a few more weeks, but I always consider the 1st of December to be the beginning of the winter season. (Especially when we've already had snow, like this year!) I love to step outside at night during the winter, enjoying the soft white ground all around, glowing in the moonlight. Do you? I also like the different ways that Hughes describes the moon in this short poem.