My Christmas Day began with feet.... my feet. I decided to dance my way to merry-ness in my apartment.
My heels and toes then carried me to the beach ... where it soon became clear that Mother Nature had been dipping her brush into the Christmas palette.
In the cool sand, as the storm clouds parted for the sun, I welcomed the 25th of December 2011... not a soul in sight.
My hands reached down toward the sand, plucking plump, succulent plums from their salty stems.
With hands and feet, I drove my car to Sunshine Beach, where I lay a loaf of Sourdough down, to celebrate the day with a dear friend.
A feast for two orphans on Christmas Day... a star-shaped platter... a mouthful of blueberries... a handful of beach plums... a heart full of contentment.
Two sets of hands, twisting and folding and sticky-taping together a paper star....
The sweet and spicy smell of ginger cake wafting through the house...
My Christmas Day ended with feet... my friend's feet.... her red painted toes next to blue, green and yellow granny squares. Between the fruit platters and paper stars, we crocheted together as we watched an old Santa movie...we chuckled at Dudley Moore, dressed as an elf.
And so this evening I give thanks for the simple pleasures in life, which are as sweet as a warm ginger cake, cooked with four loving hands, on Christmas Day.