I found the stockings and hung them over the quilts on a quilt rack that shields us from the cold air that seeps in through the chimney from the not yet finished fireplace, site of the 2006 house fire. I don't ever want a fire in that fireplace again. But Santa should feel to come down the chimney if he wants. It's up to current code, the opening is wider than normal, and the quilt rack can easily topple over if he just kicks it.
Yes, usually we hang stockings not tangerines, or in this case mandarins, as in the painting Satsuma Mandarin with Insects, by Jonathan Koch. But we do like finding tangerines or clementines in the toes! Insects, not so much. Not in the toes. In the world, yes!
My daughter is home from college for winter break, and busy with boyfriend, room cleaning, and Christmas shopping. My son plans to come home this weekend for a visit, but a snowstorm is in the forecast, and I want him safe. But it is beginning to feel a lot like Christmas!
In poetry news, I've had some new acceptances, a surprise and delight, as it's usually rejection at this time of year. Also, while I don't always send stuff out in December, I've done that, too. So, uh, yes, instant karma? It's coming from an organization impulse, I imagine, or is an elaborate tactic for avoiding Christmas shopping at the mall. So is sweeping up. And making lists. And checking them twice.
"You must change your life," said Rilke. So that's what I keep doing. I worked as an actor, wrote for an encyclopedia, edited a literary magazine, shelved and retrieved materials in several libraries, walked beans, and taught college English courses. Now I write & edit as a freelancer, direct plays, blog "eight days a week," study the random, and listen to birdsong.