Magic has its way of protecting Santa Claus, as he sailed upon that wintry wonderland he became as camouflaged as any chameleon. White sleigh, white reindeer, white wrapped gifts. Even the big man himself was snow white. And so even as the media went wild, even under a blaze of search beams, the landscape appeared empty. Heat signatures were cloaked. Sounds were muted to nought. 'Twas Christmas Eve and the most ancient of magic was wide awake.

December 4, 2025.

​

Merriest joy sparkles as glitter amid evergreen air, as our angel keeps her steady vigil, Christmas time is here. My cake may be in the value range, my spirits bought on sale, but my love is ‘top of the line’ and my courage is ‘in each and every atom.’ Neither woman nor man is measured in money, for Christ cared for the soul, for the sinners and the saints. Equally I can be alone or with friends and family, God is with me either way and I am as content to walk my path as the robin is to alight the holly trees, to feast on reddest berries, to chirp with puffed chest in snow and ice.

November 29, 2025.

 

Coconut macaroon clouds sail as merry aeronauts in the blues. Apple turnover wintery hills slumber as earthen pillows. Wind as icing gaily blusters around, whipping air as invisible cream. “Twas the season of the Christmas dream, of homemade treats and mulberry wine, of cranberry Wensleydale and Jacob’s crackers. The cookie bake-off was our community thing, a way we gave our homeless seasonal cheer and spread the tidings of the season far and near.

November 19, 2025.

 

The Christmas tree, as if dream born, ‘twas LED stars in the twilight: white, bright, bold. The Christmas tree, as if magician summoned, ‘twas LED stars that reflected in polished sash windows, that reflected in the shine of mullioned panes. So too were those sweet ‘stars’ reflected in the polished wooden planks, echoes radiating in spice scented wax, radiating as moonlight upon a mirror-lake. A broad gold ribbon wound around, up, up, up, a shimmering road upon the tall evergreen. ‘Twas a generous adornment that graced aromatic needles of green, leading all the way to the angel a-top. Serene, amid the fragrance of mulled wine, sanguine amid the room of mulled nostalgia infused dreams, she kept vigil. One could feel the season’s love a-caroling within, serenading with neither sound nor breath- yet in soulful silent draughts.

December 21, 2025.

 

The keystone atop the arch is birdsong and choir hymns. Each church stone is a stitch in its own bayeux tapestry. The wind is its comforter, be it warm or cold. The aromas of snow, of grass, of flowers and autumnal leaves are its humble clock. Its texture is the roughness of real history, the kind we sanitise for general view. Eyes up to the saints, and the pain they knew. Eyes up to the cross, brighter in these dawn rays. Pews yawn chestnut. The holy season approaches. Come one, come all, the stone has held long and will hold on.

October 27, 2025.

 

I love Christmas movies. I watch them all year round. I can't get enough of trees lit up, of lovers finding their forever home and families coming home for the holidays. I do wish it was all less commercial, that we really did want the good times together and the home-baking more than expensive gifts. I wish we made it a time when our gratitude for Jesus gave us more determination to live in sustainable ways, to respect creation and the Earth we have been blessed with. I wish the sense of Christmas really was there all year round, that we thought more of giving and less of receiving, that our will to follow his example was more profound, more dominant in the choices we make. For me it is a time of renewal of spirit, of faith and bonds. It has the power to uplift, to raise our eyes heavenward. So, as a beloved old house in need of renovation, I think it's time we put in the work.     

March 4, 2021.

 

The Christmas tree is a symbol of our love: alive, growing and evergreen.

January 30, 2023.

 

I love stockings by the hearth and spiced cookies upon the tree. I love indulgent hot chocolates and the carolling. I could be a character in my own Christmas movie, I love all the schmaltz that much. I'm a sucker for a happy ending. I'm a sucker for stories of love. I wish we'd make it a sustainable holiday, an event respectful to creation, an event that builds loving bonds in society. I want the version on the movies to start to have more reality that simply upon the screen. I want that everyday kind of magic, that caring, that it's supposed to bring.

March 4, 2021.

 

When my arms are the wrapping, you are the gift. So let us leave the plastic upon its cold shelf and instead find peace within ourselves this Christmas.

September 26, 2019.

 

Christmas needs a reboot, a sort of version 2.0, where we do what we say we believe in, when we put the love of Christ into action mode.

March 4, 2021.