Ghosts Of An Already Christmas PastSunday, December 29, 2013
When the family leaves late Christmas Eve Rosemary and I pick up a bit and get into bed knowing that on Christmas day we will not go anywhere. Even though the NY Times publishes on Christmas day it will not be waiting for us in the morning. That day’s edition will be wrapped with that of December 26. And so it was.
Since we do not have to go anywhere we can stay in our bed clothes to lounge around and eat sweets (marzipan and Belgian chocolates). Rosemary will drink lots of coffee and I will make many large mugs of strong tea.
Lauren would note that the JBL monitors (with their black front cloths) are back and that Ale took the AR-2ax speakers to Lillooet. I will miss their presence and their accuracy and I am slowly appreciating (I am rationalizing this!) the smoothness of the JBLs.
Today Ale loaded her van and left for Lillooet. I hope she will enjoy the AR sound system that she is taking and that she will share the beautiful sound in her solitude but with the company of her beloved cat Banjo. When she was gone, I almost cried. I was left feeling empty. She is so near and yet those curves and winter driving keep her so far.
She left my basement in beautiful order and I am not ashamed of going down there. The packing of the Manfrotto boom in a corner has given me the project and excitement of taking pictures in the spring that will resemble the skylight lighting of Mathew Brady’s portraits.
The pictures of the snow, three days before Christmas Eve, somehow give me a feeling of warmth but coldness at the same time. I cannot complain about our almost white Christmas. I took the pictures and all others here with the Fuji X-E1. That I have such a wonderful camera has all to do with the constant urging of my Rosemary and the technical backing and practical expertise of Jeff Gin from Leo’s Camera on Granville.
The living room as it is now, in spite of some of the warm colours, is empty of the humanity of my family. I hope we are all around to celebrate one more Christmas Eve and that the room will again be messy with torn wrapping and giggling granddaughters.