Time for Christmas

 We too, are about to get rain. For Christmas I would prefer snow. However, rain can be pleasing as well. 

Rain is forecast in Jericho, Vermont for Christmas Day. I prefer a snowy Christmas day, however rain brings its own special greetings; children perhaps still hear the joy and laughter, the wonder and awe that rain brings about; at times I too relinquish the umbrella, raincoat, galoshes in favor of welcoming rain as do the animals, trees, and other plants of the forest. 

I recall a walk, in Ripton, Vermont, at the Robert Frost Trail. About midway along the walk, it began to rain. We slipped under some fir trees to catch drips instead of the whole family of drops.

Soon the evergreens were deluged, swamped, and unable to contain any more water, and simultaneously the spout in the sky opened up releasing drops of rain the size of pigeons. 

Once one is so wet that your clothes feel heavier than you are and your sneakers feel like sponge cake, and the steam, rolling off of you makes you look like a vertical lake in the early morning mist; (then) you might just as well continue on, leaving the understory of the pines to deer and rabbits who shed water much easier than you do. 

And so we walked, me wishing and wanting to remove my clothing to get rid of the extra weight as well as to really feel the warm rain splashing against me, opening my pores and my mind to the pure, pine-scented fragrance and nature sounds of mini-waterfalls pouring off my head, as well as feeling the wet but crisp pine needles under my bare feet.

I wanted to be one (as much as I could) with the forest - no longer did I wish to escape any of her moods or expressions, but only to fully experience the beauty of vital life all around me as they too become refreshed by the rain. 

No longer was there a wonder of what lies ahead, nor what happened in the past, my whole being was in the moment - time seemed endless, nor did I wish the clock or my circumstances to change, if not forever, for at least as long as I could stay one with the fir trees and perhaps begin to know their relationship with the rain.

Robin Kimmerer in Braiding Sweetgrass expresses what I think was for her a similar moment, in this passage about "time".

"If there is meaning in the past and in the imagined future, it is captured in the moment. When you have all the time in the world, you can spend it, not on going somewhere, but on being where you are. So I stretch out [under a fallen log], close my eyes, and listen to the rain."

On Christmas Day, here in Jericho, Vermont, at our home, we will stretch out, perhaps even walk outside (sans umbrella, but clothed), and celebrate Christmas with nature's many life forms in celebration of a wider family than just our human one.

We will cherish the moment together, absorbing as much of the good as we can, and like the evergreens releasing the rest to drop to the ground and be absorbed by mother earth.  

We will act like we have all the time in the world; no matter whether it rains, snows, or the sun shines; we will spend it, not on going somewhere, but on being where we are - at home.