January 25th: A Newsletter

In the first month of Christmas...

• Letter from the Editor

• 12 Reasons to Love Christmas

• Holiday Biscotti Recipe

• "The Twelve Months of Christmas" Chapter One

• Fun Christmas Puzzles to Make You Go Hmm

12 Reasons to Love Christmas

by Natalie Plopkin

There are so many reasons to love the holiday season! As we get ready for Christmas, let's reflect on some of the things that make this time so special. Photos courtesy of Mother Duck Swanson and Katie Duck Swanson.

"The Twelve Months of Christmas"

by Kafryn Swargyn

***

Chapter One: The Partridge in the Pear Tree

You scowl up at the sky, contemplating. The winter so far has been pathetic, but here at last you can feel the cold wind biting into you and the crunch of the thin layer of snow under your boots. This winter will not sparkle. There’s no real hope of that. But at least, you sigh with relief, Christmas is over.

The new year is begun, and according to your mom that means it’s time for you to find some direction for your life. Get a job answering phones for the chiropractor’s office, or volunteer at the local history museum---do anything other than nothing. Truthfully that sounds like more effort than you’re willing to expend. Still, maybe Mom is right.

So today you left your room. You walked outside with the intention of taking a little hike, doing a little soul-searching. You grumble silently, Of course I just had to pick the day it actually turns frigid. But, hey, perhaps the bracing wind will help you think. You shiver, then pull up your hood.

You wander to the orchard, leaving shallow prints in what snow exists. As you listen to the rhythm of your own footfalls, your mind goes blank. Who really needs to think about doing anything productive with their time? When snow go crunch, brain go crunch too. You catch a glimpse of red in your periphery, slicing through a world of gray.

“Ah, hello, Mr. Cardinal,” you give him a little wave. The bird doesn’t show the slightest sign of acknowledgement. Admit it, you are a tiny bit offended. You track his movements from one pine bough to another, to a birch, then across an open space to an apple tree. Soon, with nothing better to do, you’re following him through the orchard.

You continue this way mindlessly for a while, without a clear thought in your head. Once or twice, his red feathers bring you back to thoughts of Christmas. With a grimace, you push such loathsome memories aside. There would be no more Christmas, at least not for another eleven months.

Almost imperceptibly, your surroundings start to shift. Mr. Cardinal seems to blur. The sounds of snow and wind, the sting of cold, the drabness of the scene---somehow everything grows less defined. It all melds together in an incoherent muddle, then reshapes itself.

You are in a heavy winter coat in a sunny meadow. Under your snow boots is green grass. The clearing is small, and there are stands of trees to all sides, though you don’t know how dense or deep they might be. Behind you, there’s a narrow opening, and what appears to be a path, the trees pruned back on either side and their boughs woven together above. A tunnel. But a little ways in front of that opening, there’s one lone tree. You almost walk into it when you first turn around. It’s in full blossom now---pears hang from its limbs. And from an upper bough, someone watches you.

The cardinal may be gone, but now there is a partridge. It cocks its head. You feel as if those stupid little bird eyes are boring into you, methodically flitting through the archives of your soul and reading every page. You’re sweating.

“You are lost.” The partridge speaks in a matter-of-fact, almost robotic voice.

“Um… yep.”

“You do not know where you are.”

You frown. “Pretty sure we covered that.”

“You do not know where you are going. You are without direction.”

“Okay, yes. Where am I?”

“You are at the beginning of the path. You shall follow it until you reach the end.”

“And at the end will I be home again?”

“At the end of the path is the place where you are meant to be. The end is the inevitable. There is no escape. Christmas will claim you.”

“I’m sorry?”

“This path leads to devotion, its end is the Caroller’s domain, where all souls are shackled to Christmas cheer and fettered to joy. The Caroller calls to you now, and you will answer one way or another.”

You are sweating rather badly now, but you don’t think to take off your coat. “I don’t see what Christmas has to do with anything. Christmas was over like two weeks ago, and I really need to get home.”

“Christmas is never over. Those who would seek its end are deceivers and destroyers. So says the Caroller. You are lost, but the Caroller has found you. You will follow the path, for you have no direction of your own. There is no other direction. I have been sent to tell you this, that the way might be made easier for you. It will be a pleasanter journey if you walk willingly. But either way, you will walk.”

“I—”

“Do not struggle and you will not feel pain.”

Heat rises to your cheeks. “Am I supposed to understand any of this? Just tell me how to get home.”

The partridge blinks at you and continues in the same monotone. “Submit your will to Christmas.”

“I hate Christmas,” you mutter.

“Please repeat your statement.”

You glare. “I. Hate. Christmas.”

“Do you refuse to submit to the Caroller’s calling?”

“I refuse.”

“You have chosen an ineffective course, but it matters not. Very well.”

The partridge launches from its perch and wheels through the opening in the trees. And a moment later, your feet begin to move. In alarm, you try to stop, but it’s no use. You are walking into the waiting woods.

To be continued....

Holiday Puzzles Just for You!

Our lovely contributors have put together a few holiday puzzles for you! The answer keys will be published in next month's newsletter---if we remember, which is definitely not guaranteed.