Love Soaked Chaos

It's a Washington Autumn, which feels like a California Winter.

The ground is damp. There are leaves everywhere; gold and red and brown and still green.

The birds are rushing about, building up their nests and finding life partners to snuggle up with against the chill. The garden is dying off, the blackberries shriveling up on the vine.

The air is full of damp earth, wood smoke, and the last of the fruit going to seed. The sun is bright, warm and golden, while the air is cold with the promise of frost soon.

This feels like the holidays for me. This feels like baking cookies and nut bread, hanging twinkle lights and watching parades, laying out a blanket of sparkly batting as snow across my grandmas coffee table so she can set up her Christmas village and her St. Nick collection.

On Thanksgiving morning, coming across the drive to my grandparents house, I'd cuddle up on grandpas couch with my brothers and cousins and watch the parade, and listen to grandma starting the dinner prep for the day. There were always muffins; cranberry, zucchini, orange. Sometimes, if my aunt was up for it, there were cinnamon rolls too.

The house was cozy with the wood stove, and knitted blankets, and big Grandpa bear hugs whenever we wanted them.

There would be hot apple cider and hot chocolate (I was a cider kid) and piles of peppernut cookies we had helps make the week before.

As the day got on, veggie trays and pickles and olives were set out to snack on until the big feast. The turkey was starting to smell good by now, and the mash potatoes, stuffing, green beans and carrots(or yams, sometimes both) were adding a sweetness to the air.

As more people came, the house got louder and more crowded, and us kids were shooed outside (always clomping back through for more snacks, and making grandpa shout "shut the damn door!" a million times). 5 dozen conversations were going at once. And every so often, somone would start singing a song; Deck the Halls, God Rest Ye Merry Gentleman, I Come to The Garden, The Rose... And as the first line ended, other people would pause and pick up the tune. And soon the whole house was singing.

I don't remember all the things us kids did... there were games of "war", or obstacle courses. There was poker (played for peppernuts or candy instead of poker chips). There was sitting around wondering when dinner would start- it was almost always late. There were kid courts, where we would adjudicate our own petty squabbles and the judge (usually my big brother) would dole out punishments such as, "give the stupid toy back," "apologize and shake hands," or "20 push-ups!"

And then there was the feast. Mom would bring our contribution over from our kitchen, and everything was laid out for a formal dinner. We had to put all the extra leaves in the table to make room, and most years, the kids were punted to another table just for sheer lack of room (there were at least 30 people at these dinners). Homemade gravy, green beans, cranberry sauce and dinner rolls were passed round and round.

It was delicious and love soaked chaos.

Being grown up now, with everyone moving away (including myself) and life taking the turns it will, the holiday season looks very different. There are less big dinners, less people. Less baked goods and cozy memories. Less happy chaos. And this year is the first without even the opportunity for a Grandpa bear hug.