Selphie

Oliver attempts a Selphie
He's not quite mastered the art of keeping his eyes open, when the flash goes off.
 

Winding Down

We've ate, drank and made merry.

Over-indulged in all the traditions of the season that makes this magical celebration.......magical.

Laughter was in abundance.

 

  

 

 

Recipe books are returned to their bookcase- home.
It's a ritual I go through every holiday,  drag out the recipe books, yet end up making  the same tried and tested dishes as the previous years.

Tradition prevails.

 

 

The gatherings are over, the house is tidied.

Time to enjoy a few hours of quiet  a nice pot of tea and biscuits.

And admire my sweet new teapot cozy

 

 

 

 

 

Peace On Earth, Goodwill To All Men

And so This is Christmas.....

I've so enjoyed our visits back and forth throughout the year, all the sweet comments written, and well-wishes when a word of encouragement was needed.

We truly wish each and every one of you, friends and family, near and far, all the blessings of a Joyous and Merry Christmas.

 

May you have the gladness of Christmas which is hope;

The spirit of Christmas which is peace;

The heart of Christmas which is love."

 

~Ada V. Hendicks

 

 

When Christmas bells are swinging above the fields of snow,

We hear sweet voices ringing from lands of long ago,

And etched on vacant places

Are half-forgotten faces

Of friends we used to cherish,

And loves we used to know.

 

~ Ella Wheeler Wilcox

 

 

The Village Of Great Budworth

One of the most beautiful villages in my home county of Cheshire, is the historic village of Great Budworth.

A quintessential English village, first mentioned in the Doomsday Book in the year 1130.

Set in the heart of some of England's most picturesque countryside, it is home to the magnificent St Mary and All Saints Church, The George and Dragon Pub, and the Great Budworth Ice Cream Farm, all within walking distance of it's cottage-lined streets.

What a magical place to call home......

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The cottage Homes of England!
By thousands on her plains,
They are smiling o’er the silvery brooks,
And round the hamlet-fanes.
Through glowing orchards forth they peep,
Each from its nook of leaves;
And fearless there the lowly sleep,
As the bird beneath their eaves. Felicia Dorothea Hemans (1793–1835)

Pieces Of The Past

Each time I pass this old homestead, my heart skips a beat.
Long ago abandoned, and neglected, I can't help but imagine her beauty and elegance in bygone times.
I fight the urge to hang a Christmas wreath on her weathered clapboard siding, and imagine her walls whispering "Thank You" for not forgetting.

Someone always leaving
and never coming back.
The wooden houses left too long abandoned
to turn old and gray.

Weeds pushing apart . . .
Trees gone wild,
Fields taking over
Shredded curtains blowing in the wind.

Beams of weathered wood . . .

No longer able to hold in
The soft heartbeat of Home.

 

 

 

December Days

"When everything that ticked has stopped,

And space stares, all around,

Or grisly frosts, first autumn morns,

Repeal the beating ground."

 Emily Dickinson, Time and

Done And Dusted

This afternoon, I accomplished a little inside decorating.
Our tree is an Alpine Tree, tall and skinny, and doesn't require any furniture to be moved around, which makes life easier.
The mantle is  finished, except for a few dried orange slices and cinnamon sticks.
I'm calling it finished, because the sun is shining brilliantly and there is a  list of outdoor chores with my name on them......

The silver is polished

The Christmas crackers await Christmas wishes and giggles