The Kitchen Garden Novice Decks the Halls

Do not dwell in the past, do not dream of the future, concentrate the mind on the present moment.

Buddha



My nephew posted this quote to his FB page recently. Seems like a sound aspiration. (And something to which I try to adhere.) But Christmas is one of those times of year when staying in the present becomes a quest of Quixotic proportions. Take for instance yesterday morning, when I decided to decorate the Christmas tree. Immersed in holiday happiness, I pulled the first ornament from the bin. In the blink of St. Nick's eye, I was transported back in time.

I know what you're thinking: rosy cheeked cherubs, carols, nativity scenes, and holidays past. But that's at somebody else's house. That's not how we roll. For years, hubby and I choose to find Christmas ornaments on each of our summer vacation trips to here and yon. We don't buy T-shirts, hats, or teaspoons. We buy Christmas ornaments. And so, at Christmas time we remember those far-away ports of call.

As I decorated. I reminisced. There was the bulb we picked up at hubby's pilgrimage to Graceland, a visit I almost ruined for him with my snooty, snarky attitude. (I was not very enlightened then.)

       I unwrapped the little mouse

       with the wine rack

       we'd picked up in

       California wine country.

       (She was, I confess,

        accompanied home

        by several bottles of

        Pinot and Chardonnay.)

There was the hand-painted

sand dollar we picked up

at a boutique in

Myrtle Beach on a trip
when we pulled into town

in the wake of

Hurricane Charlie.

I uncovered the Mardi Gras 

masks we'd spied on Canal Street

in New Orleans

while braving gale-force

winds brought ashore by

Hurricane Rita.                       

I dug out the snowman

hockey player we'd scored

in Vancouver. That was the

cruise we were diverted from

a Mexican beach trip by the

Swine Flu's invasion of

Mexico's resort towns. (Are

you starting to see a pattern

here? Hubby and I often
travel leaving a trail of disaster
breadcrumbs.)

And then of course there were the

half-dozen seashell angels I'd

crafted from the bucketfuls of shells

we'd picked up on the beach
in Galveston. I can still feel the
backache from doing

the shell-seeker's stoop.

I unpacked the cable car commemorating our many trips to San Francisco, the snorkeling Santa from Grand Cayman, the starfish from St. Thomas, and the skiing moose from Park City's, Olympic Village. Every trinket unlocked a treasure chest of memories...people... places...  I was filled with wonder at how our lives have unfolded, how blessed we've been to pursue our hearts' desire to travel.

I thought about Wisuth, the Thai waiter.  Did he ever fulfill his dream of opening a restaurant in Thailand?

I conjured up a vision of The Battery in Charleston. Are all of those Painted Ladies twinkling this very minute with holiday garland and lights?

I envisioned Santa Fe with a light dusting of snow. Do luminarias line the cobblestone streets and balconies yet?

And how about Orlando, our waiter on Carnival Splendor. Was he able to take Splendor's unscheduled dry dock to go home to his family in the Philippines for Christmas? 

No, with all due respect to Buddha, at Christmas time, staying in the present faces a whole barrage of challenges. And perhaps it should. As I recall the places and faces of my heart, that, my dear friends, is "a present" of another kind.