I sit in the cool as the winter cold seeps through the glass of the front windows. The blinds are raised to allow those passing by to glimpse the tree, the old nativity and penguin village.

For the season, the tree is simply decorated with a few of the myriad accumulated trinkets. The remainder rest at peace in the attic above the garage.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My new favorite ornament is a Waterford amethyst ball discovered in a glassed cabinet in the back room of a secondhand store and purchased for a song (a bargain).

 

 

 

 

 

 

Around the corner, tucked in a quiet alcove, shepherds, angels, two cows, a donkey and five sheep gaze at a newborn babe in a manger, the doting parents bent in wonder.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Off in the distance, across the side-board top, at least 24 inches away, stand three wise men or magi or kings of the east, cradling gifts beneath the child’s star and before their tethered camels.

 

 

 

 

 

 

This nativity is old. One of the camels is a replacement spied on the basement shelf of a used bookstore years ago and recognized as a contemporary dromedary. I paid the exorbitant price of $1.50 for the new member of the family. An older kin has the original price of 15 cents marked in pencil beneath its base. Those were the days when common cents was worth something. Who knows what the next camel will bring?

No Christmas is complete without a penguin or two or three.

 

 

 

 

 

 

My first granddaughter began building Holiday houses some five years past. They were lonely, and I had a small penguin collection, so it seemed a natural fit. Things haven’t been the same since. This year that same granddaughter insisted on an elf, which you may spy interloping up there, on the shelf. She also liberated my refrigerator monkey with its held heart. If you look closely, you’ll find him. It seems the small simian favors the company of elves and holiday-hatted penguins.

When I wander the winter wonderlands, both inside here and out there on the street, peeking through the windows and admiring the decorated lawns, I feel a curious sense of timelessness.

Yes, this is our house, and those are our neighbors’ homes. With the decorations, though — I don’t know.

In the crispness of the evening and the twinkling of the lights, there linger a haunting smile and distant laugh that drift through the night with an air of far-away lands and ancient remembered peoples.

In its earthly cage, my mind lifts and relaxes.

A faint ringing of bells tolls the approach and presence of Christmas.

I see the peak-capped time weavers at work before their crowded and brightly colored benches, humming a happy tune of a night’s sleigh ride, dashing reindeer, a jolly old elf, a plate of cookies and gifts carefully placed under the tree.

With them, we wait, watch and hope.

There is magic everywhere.

And with you each,

Peace.

 

Grandpa Jim