Wednesday, December 12, 2018
The creche and Christmas song # 9
A beautiful morning. We stop on the storm drain at the edge of the ridge and watch two foxes slink across the long grass into the safety of the hawthorn thicket. Bob and his sister are both clipped onto their leads in case they are tempted to give chase. On the way home a long drink from the water filled ditch by the horse field. The under 10's school bus slows so that the children can press their noses against the windows and wave at Bob and Sophie. I wave back.
Back at The Rickety Old Farmhouse the creche is brought out of the basement and carried upstairs. The collection of Christmas tree lights ( put in an obvious place so they couldn't get lost ) are rediscovered after a gap of three years. There are a lot of them.
'The Font' starts setting out the angels and the wise men. Angus rushes off to change. He has to go to China and is going to London to have his fingerprints taken for the Chinese visa and booster injections for Yellow Fever, Hepatitis and something else which he forgets.
' His wings as drifted snow, his eyes as flame '. Surely one of the most beautiful lines in the English language. From Bloomington, Indiana a rather medieval sound : https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dQ5wmFi9sfA