[at-l] Christmas Eve

[Bob Cummings <ellen@clinic.net> (Bob Cummings)]

Ah. It's been a busy three weeks. Fighting the new battle of Saddleback
(400-foot high Wind Turbines), putting out three tabloids for environmental and
trail groups, getting ready for Christmas with a large extended family (six of
us survive, and are still close friends at ages 63-75, plus numerous spouses,
children and grandchildren.

 But I managed to take the winter solstice off. I wandered about our 700 acres
 of land trust acquisitions: saw a fresh clearcut from beaver activity, and the
 start of a new beaver lodge; enjoyed the beauty of a fresh snow; and inspected
 a new trail. The weather was not great -- heavy clouds and a light snow made
 photography difficult. But I shot up a 36-exposure roll anyway. And was pleased
 enough with the results to send an illustrated solstice message to our 20
 directors. The wonders of computers. And of small towns. I took the letters to
 the post office at 8 a.m. and was assured, all would be delivered today.

 It rained most of today--destroying dreams that the snow of solstice day would
 survive long enough for a white Christmas. But we went to Christmas Eve
 services anyway -- in the tiny church built in 1802 that I can see from my
 living room window. My wife left a half hour early. She's a member of the
 church " Belles" -- who ring tuned bells on Christmas eves and sundry other
 occasions.

 I'm not a Christian. My mind can't accept angels from heaven urging shepards to
 attend a "virgin" birth, among other things. But tears inched down my cheeks,
 as it always does for some reason, when we lighted candles and sang "Silent
 Night."

 Regardless. As I told my directors, "Best Wishes for the holiday season and the
 new year."

 Weary