Christmas time conjures the thought of holiday baking, carols playing in the back ground. Maybe a crackling fire warming the room, hot chocolate and cookies. Did I mention the Christmas carols playing softly in the back ground?

Here is where I wish I could insert that scriiiiitch sound that a record makes when the needle gets knocked. I know that you young things have no idea what I am talking about, but when we used to play music with a black round disk looking thing called a record…. Never mind, too hard to explain. Feeling old here.

My Christmas reality is this: Many kids, mostly freakishly large and noisy teens, filling up my small home with frenetic activity. In the background I can hear, not Christmas carols, rather the constant sound of gun fire. I feel as if I am in a war zone, not just due to the sound of guns and bombs going off. Let’s just say, boys resolve conflict differently than girls. Don’t worry they were just playing video games. It is Texas, but we are not waving our guns around yet. Well, most of us aren’t. Then we have the constant need for heavy carbs and a lot of them to fuel this group of large, loud, crazy well wishers, most of whom I birthed and were tiny innocent babies, seems like just yesterday!

Most of the time I look around, smile and think, someday I am really going to miss this. However, on this particular December day the normal joyful noise was getting to me. I figured I had two options; To spike the eggnog. My eggnog, not the boy’s. Lord, I can’t imagine how that would ramp up the craziness!  Or I could take my quiet gardening, leaf raking, animal loving self outside for the rest of the day. I have never been more thankful for the beautiful weather in Texas! If I lived, say, in Michigan, I would have to tie them together, let them fight it out and raise the one that survived! Good thang I live in Texas and can go outside!

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So my daughter, littlest one and I spent the whole day outside yesterday. We made mud pies, a Texas size leaf pile, put some lights around the garden. I did garden chores; raked up rabbit manure and put it in the garden beds, let rabbits out to run around in their pens and harvested seeds and kale. Oh it was fun!

One incident happened that marred the delightful day, however. My faithful garden pitch fork, that I was given for Christmas many years ago, stirred the compost for the very last time. Moment of silence here….. The increased load placed on him after the death of my garden fork earlier in the year, no doubt led to his demise. Sniff, sob. So here is a little tribute I penned in memory of my faithful, sturdy, compost stirring friend.

• Now I lay my tool down to sleep,
• I pray his soul the Lord to keep.
• And if it’s gone before I wake,
• Please leave another by the garden gate

Merry Christmas Everyone!!

From the tool-less gardener. Hint hint.