I’ve just learned the term
for my self-soothing rhythm:
I am a cricket.
Cricketing
A New Grandson
Last-Minute Shopper
do not wait until
Christmas Eve to go gift shop
your mother was right~
your luck has run out
I planned and finished my list
and you had one job
she shakes a finger
from her buffet in Heaven
bites into dessert
A Calm Christmas: Faith
This December, I’m slowly making my way through Calm Christmas and a Happy New Year by Beth Kempton (2019). Even though we don’t generally have what most might consider a “Big Christmas,” I’m still feeling the pull to simplify ~ to do less, to buy less, to reflect more. In Chapter 1, Kempton presents The Five Stories of Christmas that focus on faith, magic, connection, abundance, and heritage. Today, I’m thinking about faith, and she asks the following question for reflection as it relates to Christmas:
Which parts of your faith connect to Christmas the most, and how do you feel when you think about them?
The Bible tells Luke’s account of the birth of Jesus, and of course with every other child born in the 1960s – even if we went to church every Sunday, -we still remember it best from the Peanuts episode that aired around 8:00 p.m. once during the month of December and may have been followed by Frosty the Snowman or Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer at 8:30. We watched an exasperated Charlie Brown ask what Christmas was all about on our channel-knob television with the fine-tuning dial and rabbit ears in the days before remote controls. For me, the part of my faith that connects to Christmas is the story of the Nativity.
Here is a story from a previous blog post about the Nativity Set I mention below in my poem below~ it’s a special family heirloom, and I look forward to unboxing it each Christmas season. This is the way my faith connects to Christmas as I ponder it deeply, because it connects past, present, and future in one defining moment in history and puts it all right in the manger. My mother may not still be here in the present, but because of the past, I can count on seeing her again in the future. That’s Christmas!
Nativity Nonet
the nativity is the reason
we celebrate Christmas ~ before
she died, my mother gave me
a Nativity set
to span the ages
generations ~
past, present,
future:
faith
On a scale of 1-10, I’d rate faith a 10 on its level of importance to me at Christmas.
Amaryllis Bulb
amaryllis bulb
for the office to watch grow
~ a Christmas surprise!
Memories of Boston: A Picture Tour
On the final full day of the NCTE Convention in Boston, I gave myself permission to attend a half day and take a half day to explore Boston with my husband on his first visit to this iconic city. In 2005, I’d summered just 20 minutes from Boston in Milton, Massachusetts, where I’d stayed on the campus of Curry College doing research as part of a graduate degree program. I’ve visited a few times since, most recently in 2022.
So
much
has
changed!
Since the weather was cold and rainy and we were woefully wardrobe-unprepared, we decided to catch the Old Town Trolley tour and sit back and relax, listening to the history as we rode in the heated bus. I purchased tickets online and added them to my Apple Wallet, jumping on at Stop 15: The Boston Convention Center.
I believe my favorite part of the tour was the changing leaves. There’s nothing like New England in the fall, with all its vibrant colors and crisp air.
Plimoth-Patuxet Thanksgiving Dinner
After traveling the final leg of our loop around New England on Wednesday afternoon from West Chesterfield, New Hampshire to Plymouth, Massachusetts, we visited the Plimoth-Patuxet Museum sites on Wednesday and Thursday. Our first stop was to Plymouth Rock, and our second was to the Mayflower II. At these exhibits, we learned a little more about the history of the voyage the Pilgrims made – the risks they took and the price they paid.
On Thursday, we visited the Pilgrim colony and shared in the Thanksgiving Dinner right in the area where the first Thanksgiving dinner was held. We were pleased that a historian was sharing the history with us so that we could hear accurate accounts from primary sources. We were also impressed that the Pilgrim village was created with historical accuracy, with role-playing realistic Pilgrims who go about their village and house chores while inviting questions and observations from visitors. We even saw a real goose being cooked on a spit and a mother Pilgrim teaching her son some culinary skills.
The Pilgrims spoke with the accents and language of their time, and answered any questions from those witnessing their chores and conversations.
I entered one of the homes to find a young man seated by the fire wearing a tan vest and keeping warm. It was miserably cold and raining on this Thanksgiving holiday as we walked outdoors bundled up with umbrellas, thankful we both had waterproof shoes. I told him I thought he had the best seat in the house. He asked if I had any questions.
“Just one,” I replied. “Did anyone ever feel safe?”
He rubbed his chin for a moment, considering this before responding, “What a question!”
After a pause, he replied that they did feel safe, because their strong faith in the Lord depended on their ultimate faith in him, and whatever consequence brought about was by His provisioning.
Satisfied, I thought about the 2-month voyage that they had taken across the Atlantic Ocean – risking it all in the name of religious freedom – and concluded that he was probably right. He seemed to be answering from the perspective of safety of belief, whereas my question was more from a physical context in terms of Native tribes and wild animals, having seen the guns and cannons in the meeting house that afforded lookout-level views outside the gated village.
At 2:30, we found our table with our place cards and met the others who would be seated at our table. There were three other couples and two children eating with us. After some introductions, we began sipping our cider and passing the plate of cheese, crackers, and grapes as appetizers. Our meal menu was inspired by the 1863 Thanksgiving meal served to students at Harvard University. In the museum, there is a timeline and display that sequences the progression of the Thanksgiving meal from the 17th century to today, along with the types of dishes and utensils that would have been used at each meal.
Visitors have two options for the Thanksgiving meals served at Plymouth-Patuxet Museum. The choices include a buffet meal served at The Craft House or a plated meal with formal dining served in the Visitor Center. The formal dinner includes The Story of Thanksgiving, told by the chief historian as a narrative along with a member of the Wampanoag tribe and a Pilgrim descendant. This is the meal we chose, simply because with so much controversy often surrounding this holiday, we wanted to seek understanding of the facts from a historian’s explanation of what really happened. The reading of the land honorarium was a meaningful part of the meal, along with the customary toast given.
After a traditional toast before dessert, the museum had one more offering in store for Thanksgiving guests. Even though we had planned to get on the road back to Boston at the conclusion of our meal, we took advantage of the opportunity to see Wicked at the Linn Theater at 4:30 before making the drive to Boston to turn in our rental car and check into our room for the night.
The later arrival into Boston was more than worth making the time to see the movie! Already, we are talking about the next time we can go back and enjoy more of New England.
But nothing……nothing……not one thing……compares to arriving back home. A great vacation, for us, is one that we don’t want to end – while at the same time looking forward to being back in our own space, back in our own bed. It’s one that cultivates a deep appreciation for other places and people while at the same time making us more grateful for our own little corner of the world and our strong sense of belonging we feel in it.
So from my writing chair this morning, by my own fire with its modern gas logs that simply require me to push a button to feel the warmth and see the light of its flames, I wish you all the adventures of travel and the comforts of home.
We’re blessed to experience the ride!
Wednesday Travels: From West Chesterfield, New Hampshire to Plymouth, Massachusetts on the Way to Thanksgiving at Plymouth Plantation ~ and a Very Happy Birthday to my Brother!
It’s my brother’s birthday today, so I’m wishing him a happy one! He’s a wonderful brother, and I’m so glad he’s mine! Happy birthday, Ken Haynes!
***************************
We’ve said it so many times on this trip: we’d like to come back and spend more time in certain spots. The Chesterfield Inn in West Chesterfield, New Hampshire is one of those places ~ the historic inn feel, complete with a relaxing 16-year-old cat named Yoda who runs the place. He reminds us of how we feel like we’re moving about now on this trip.
We stopped at Bolton Orchards to get some apples as a snack, and as we crunched on the crisp sweetness, we also said that as much as we say we want to come back, we have to make the time to do it. Travel doesn’t just up and happen on its own, because most of the time I’m feeling more and more like Yoda these days ~ just give me a chair and let me nap while I hope someone will come along and scratch between my ears.
So with firm resolve, we decided a couple of things:
- We’ll plan for next year’s trip once we get home; and
- We will make it less than a week (four days with a day’s rest on the returning end seems the sweet spot) ~ we are exhausted.
We also have figured out that we like to fly and ride. We’re less apt to cruise at this point, like we used to do. Cruising is nice, but it’s not what Chaucer described as the travel we like best. We like to see the landscape from the wagon and share the stories on the way to the Tabard Inn. Our next trip will involve a plane and a car, because the changing flavor from place to place (and mostly, in between) is not to be missed.
Here are a few photos from a more touristy spot, but one rich with history.
We’re flying home today, from Boston to Atlanta. I’ll share our visit to Plimoth-Patuxet for the Thanksgiving Dinner in a post over the weekend.
Happy Thanksgiving!
Plymouth Rock is a
solid landmark reminder
of new beginnings
I wish you a reflective Thanksgiving with your family today ~ moments of deep thought to consider all that we have and time to be grateful for it. On days like this, where I have all the morning to write and a travel post from yesterday waiting to be shared, it seems I need the reflective rock time more than the writing today.
Perhaps you’d like to ponder on it today as well. Look closely – – at one time, it was broken. It has been mended. And it holds messages here for people, for hearts, for families, for nations.
Happy Thanksgiving!
Tuesday Travels: From Woodstock, Vermont to West Chesterfield, New Hampshire
On Monday, I mailed a box of books home to myself because I’d broken my own rules of acquiring anything on this trip that would exceed my carry-on and personal bag capacities for flying back home to Georgia on Friday. No sooner had I mailed the box of 17 books to myself back home, I saw the sign for the Yankee Bookstore in downtown Woodstock and hollered over the sidewalk to let my husband know where he could find me. He was standing by the car, fiddling in his pockets to find change to extend the parking meter from our time in The Vermont Flannel Company so we could take a peaceful walk along the streets to see the sights.
But bookstores come first, especially the iconic ones in states that have their own brochure mapping out a bookstore tour. The Yankee Bookstore is on Vermont’s bookstore tour, and there it was – – with its bright awning and its lights. Calling my name, summoning me to enter the ranks of readers inside its warmth. I developed a serious case of squirrel when I got in and found so many amazements – – the postcards, for starters.
All memory of excessive luggage flew straight out the window as I got lost in the possibilities for next books. I thought of my Kindle in my backpack, its waning charge whispering to me, reminding me that it can carry 17 books and so many more. And as much as I love it for travel, it’s not the same as the turned-page book experience.
I kept wandering, snapped a few pictures of titles while practicing stewardship in keeping things simple, and took a Yankee Book Company flyer with a goal of ordering a hard copy from them to be sent to my home. I want to support indie bookstores, and in the name of reading and freedom to read what we choose, I will.
Two conversations in the bookstore later, we’d learned that the place to eat was The Woodstock Inn. Richardson’s Tavern was booked solid, but there was one more restaurant, and so we hurried over to check it out.
Something my husband and I have come to enjoy in traveling is the shared meal. At home, we don’t order all the courses, ever. We go straight for the main course. Here as we travel, though, we have come to learn that we can experience the culture of local food if we share an appetizer, share a salad, share a soup, share a main course, and share dessert. If we order a local beer, we share that, too. By doing this, believe it or not, we save money and don’t feel as full. We find that we don’t waste food, either. It’s not only enough food, but it’s a richer experience.
By some miracle, we snagged a 5:30 table at The Red Rooster and then waited by the room-sized fireplace for them to text us that our table was ready.
Oh, this place! The simple decoration and spaciousness, with its cream-colored tablecloths and warm, glowing candles warmed me from the inside from all that Vermont cold outside.
Dinner was nothing short of delicious, but the food had striking presentation as well. My favorite was the combination of Parker’s Rolls and the cheese sampler that featured local cheeses made right down the road in several directions.
After waking up at 506 On the River Inn, I stepped outside at 4:38 a.m. to see whether snow had fallen as predicted, and I saw a frosting of it on the picnic table below. My weather app tells me there is an 85% chance of it today. By the time I got up and showered at 7:00, it was down to a snizzle (which I think is a mix of snow and drizzle). It’s somewhere in between, and even though I’d love to see snow while we’re here, I’m more concerned about the roads. I don’t want to end up like in a real Hallmark movie getting snowed in. It’s fine to watch it happen to others, and I’d love sharing more time away with my husband, but the truth is that I’d miss my dogs too much back home. They’re getting groomings today, so they’ll be over their madness and happy to see us by the time we arrive to pick them up Friday afternoon.
Breakfast: I won’t share my maple syrup pancakes. That’s just not an option. I’m down for the dinner sharing, and maybe even lunch. But breakfast with pure Vermont maple syrup cooked to its required temperature just out the back door from here? No way.
I couldn’t even wait. I was rude and selfish and had a sampler plate before my husband arrived at the breakfast table. This is where I must confess: travel is like Christmas to me. I can’t wait, and sometimes the excitement kicks into high gear and I forget my manners and rip into the moment without abandon. I met Gloria, the 80ish year old cook, who stepped out of the kitchen and proudly told me all about the apple cinnamon pancakes she’d made fresh, just off the griddle, and she also told me about the maple cream. I’d never seen maple cream, so I tried pancakes with both (1 with maple cream, two with butter and syrup). And now I want the t-shirt that says I’ve Eaten Gloria’s Fresh-Off-the-Griddle Apple Cinnamon Pancakes with Pure Vermont Maple Syrup and Butter in Woodstock, Vermont! I want everyone in the world to know there is an experience like this to be lived.
Friends, they’re off the chain. I owed my husband a huge apology by the time he got to the table and I’d practically finished. However, I did offer him a nugget of guidance: the maple cream is for the people like me with an insatiable sweet tooth. The syrup is for folks like him who like things not quite as sweet. So in that way, it’s better I went first to scope this all out. I see it as a huge favor, for which he owes me no thanks. I’m happy to help.
And now, after breakfast , we step out into the day, heading from Woodstock, Vermont one hour south to West Chesterfield, New Hampshire for the next leg of the trip.
Snow on the weather app, snow plows everywhere, salt trucks brining streets and hotel staff scattering salt on the sidewalks. But no snow to be seen. I couldn’t understand the science of it, either. It ranged between 32 and 34 degrees for a few hours, but all we ever saw was rain. How?
And just like Yoda, we were tired, weary from the road and ready to curl up and fall fast asleep. Travel is fun, but travel is exhausting, too. We are ready for some down time, and we hope to find it in the wingback chairs and post bed beneath this beam, the only existing beam from the original barn that was turned into the Inn. I have a friend who stayed here and recommended this quaint, quiet room with its large windows overlooking the trees and the curve of the highway right by the state line between Vermont and New Hampshire along the Connecticut River.
Wednesday morning: Later today, we travel from West Chesterfield to Plymouth Harbor, where we will wear the last of our semi-clean clothes to Thanksgiving Dinner and eat where the Pilgrims and Native Americans started this whole thing.
Common Threads 