Traditions, like promises, are made to be broken. And then, of course, rebuilt even better! For many, many years, Christmas was spent at my parent's house. Breakfast in the morning, open presents, lounge around (maybe a little nap), too much dinner, too much wine, and then over to my cousin's for coffee and cake (she lived around the corner).
But then my sister had kids and my cousin sold the house and moved into an apartment, and her kids had kids so things changed.
For many years Christmas morning was spent at my sister's house. Then everyone went home for a while, cleaned up and prettied up and went to Granny and Pop's for dinner.
Then my sister moved from the apartment on the same street where we all lived (I was okay with the move--she's walking distance to Flying Fingers) and we started doing breakfast and presents at her house, then the break, then back to her house for dinner.
My hobby is knitting (and some other things but really, a lot of knitting). My sister's hobby is checking out the local real estate magazines everywhere she goes. Unlike knitting, it rarely (almost never) ends up with a finished product. But much like my experience with Snowshoe Farm at Rhinebeck, sometimes the stars align. Two years ago, she saw a really beautiful piece of property in Vermont in the little local real estate rag while she and her hubby were weekending at an inn. They went back to the same inn a month or so later--it was very romantic--and lo and behold, the same property had been reduced. And then it happened again. And again. And again. So they made a bid. A really, really low bid. And it was accepted. And whiz bang boom, they were the owners of 12 acres in Vermont. With a pond. Overlooking a bigger pond. And only an hour north of Webs. They threw up a cute little house up and before you could say "you're gonna want four wheel drive" we were all off to spend Christmas in Vermont.
I drove up the Taconic on Christmas Eve. It's a road that never ceases to amaze me. It was a very clear day but not the type of day that you would call crystal clear. The sky had a bid of milkiness to it that was the perfect foil for the golds, browns, greens and reds of the winter landscape. There wasn't a cloud in site so the shadows on the bare trees were crisp and fine and dramatic.
Of course I didn't manage to stop and take any pictures but I have tremendous trust in your imaginations.
I made it Manchester just as it was getting dark and paid a visit to Judith at Yarns for your Soul. It's a lovely shop with lovely things owned by a lovely woman. Judith is also from the Y.O. so you know you can count on her.
I bought this. It's Malabrigo Sock in the colorway Stonechat.
And this. This is delicious on so many levels. It is Arauncania Ruca in the color 4. And, dig this, it's 100% sugarcane. It is smooth and soft and silky and I love it. My sister is actually picking up two more skeins for me on her way home (did I mention that I have an amazing yarn family).
This may be my favorite. It's two skeins of local alpaca made especially for the shop. And please note the hang tag with the photo of the alpaca that it came from. In case you can't read upside down, his name is Hazlenut. He lives at Marlee Farm and seems quite content. Not to mention soft.
From there, on to Windham Hill Inn to check in and then up to Sissy's for dinner. When my sister and bro-in-law started staying there, my sister was tickled by the treat platter they put out every evening in the lobby. So, since Granny and Pop and I were staying there and everyone else was in the house and things had all gone full circle and I liked the way it all felt (still do as a matter of fact) I called the wonderful innkeeper Katja and she made us a beautiful treat plate to bring to the house. Of course my sister had plenty to nibble on as well. There was shrimp cocktail, and cheese and crackers (which I couldn't live without), and delicious little cocktail franks and then takeout Italian food from a great little local place. And family. And a fireplace. And wine (Pop was gracious enough to drive my car back to the inn so I could indulge). And then the coziest sleep I've had in a while.
The girls and I stuck bows on all the presents and put them under the tree. A wager was made on what was in the Lily Pulitzer shopping bags that Granny had for all the women. And Lucy the dog collapsed from fresh air poisoning.
Tomorrow I'll tell you about Christmas.
And honestly, I haven't forgotten about my blog. Life just got in the way. So here's BadKitten Day 30.
As usual, apologies for the advertisement.