17.11.09

It's that time of year.

Still November, not quite December.

Shops are putting up their decorations.

Councils have been hanging their festive street lights for weeks now.

The village Christmas tree is up and already lit.

And I am organising our annual 'festival-wreath-thingy'.

We get together in the second weekend of December and take over the village hall.

Ladies sweep in, bedecked in foliage, trailing ribbons, dropping baubles.

Quickly they claim their tables, set up their precious treasures collected and kept.

There is always a slow start, the kettle boiled, old friendships re-kindled.

For some of our group only see each other on this day.

Gossip swapped, stories told, chocolates eaten.

The usual complaints of the choice of music made - I am used to that.

Then suddenly - as if a silent command is given, we all start making the wreathes, garlands and table decorations.

Scissors lost, ribbons tied, gold and silver spray applied.

Foliage woven in,

glitter sprinkled,

glue guns splotting.

Tea consumed.

Stop for lunch.

More talking,

more catching up,

baby photos shown.

Wash up from lunch.

The pace quickens now,

the second half of the day seems to rush by.

Frantic finishing,

sweeping and cleaning.

Bags of foliage not used dragged back out again.

Ladies leaving triumphantly bearing their efforts of the day.

Satisfied and tired

but a good tired.

Suddenly all around the village, wreaths appear on doors, garlands over porches and stars in windows.

I love this companionship and sharing and making we do - it binds us with a gentle friendship that can be called on at all times.