December is the end of another year.
It is the month of my birth.
It’s reflection on regrets, it’s the beginning of resolutions.
December’s busy. It’s hassle. It’s deadlines. It’s shopping and money (or lack thereof).
December is Christmas music that starts in November.
It’s school programs, slushy roads, and cotton ball Santa beards.
December is hauling the decorations downstairs, and then hauling the rejected ones back up.
In December my kids get hyper.
There’s an elf I can never remember to hide.
December is dark too early, but then, December is Christmas lights.
December is a memory of a Peaches-N-Cream barbie doll.
December always means eggnog.
It’s turning a page forward, and yet… it’s turning back.
It’s remembering what was, and moving into tomorrow.
December is so many “feelings”, packed into a season, packed into a month.
It’s the only time I tolerate snow, and it’s the name of a really good song.
Each year, I welcome December for what it was, and what it will be.
Yeah. I like December.
Every year about this time, I find myself watching for traditions.
New ones, in particular. And, if it involves any kind of old wood and some tools, I’m there.
Seriously. I show up.
With my tools.
Ready to start.
This time, it was some friends of mine, and they wanted a tree…
Another Reclaimed Tree that I did for a friend below
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