Christmas is four weeks away and I'm behind. Very behind. Not many gifts in hand, no decorations up but for some outside lights that I haven't yet turned on. The spirit, which usually hits me around June, wasn't kicking in. Then we got some snow over the weekend and I took a drive in the country. Bing came on the radio with White Christmas just as I spotted a few deer that had thus far avoided the hunter's bullet. And I felt a little kick. I guess all I needed were a few flakes and deep-voiced singer to start the engine. Now my mind is tick tick ticking: where is that garland, and how about Harry's reindeer ears?
Speaking of dogs, my friend Jackie lost hers this week. I remember when she brought Casey home: she was pregnant with her now 16-year-old son. Casey the dog, who the family (for reasons unknown to me) called Bo, was a ball of fluff, charging through life as a white streak with a fanciful smile on his poodle face. In his advanced years Casey would visit us in Sherburne, and my Harry, who is under the impression he's an attack dog when a pit bull passes by, seemed to understand his "cousin's" elderly condition. Harry was gentle, nudging a cataract- and arthritis-ridden Casey around the yard, never having known the old man in the spring of life. Jackie's beloved 17-year-old pet passed away on Saturday, on a pillow at home. We'll miss you, Bo.
Finally, Santa's elves have been to town...check out the lights at The Sherburne Inn. Elves were seen on Saturday scraping windows, setting up Christmas trees, hanging ribbon. I've always been a fan of the old expression, "A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step."