Happy New Year

Happy New Year

Without passport or suitcase I took a flight of fancy to Edinburgh on the last night of August, but I found the Hogmanay revelers tucked up in their beds. The Royal Mile was empty, each wet cobblestone wearing a golden reflection of the low hanging moon.  On I travelled to New York City’s Times Square where the streets were all silent - no countdown, no whistles, no horns.  No fireworks filled the skies over Rio.  No Auld Lang Syne rang out in St. Paul.  The world has several months to wait till the light of the next new year dawns at their door, but for me, that morning has come. 

 I may be planting my flag on a lonely hill, but my new year starts with the turning of the calendar page from August to September.  Always gracious enough to give me a week or so before that first delicious cool morning, September reserves a few still hot, humid days, just time enough to get my house ready to celebrate the arrival of autumn.   I use these days up with relish, sweeping the last of summer from my house with a vengeance.   The last week has found me cleaning hardwood floors and vacuuming behind tufted chairs.  I have washed majolica teapots, sets of Scottish transferware china, and a bust of an Egyptian princess that presides over my bedroom from the top of newly polished mahogany wardrobe.  I have fluffed down pillows and laundered the linen. Oiled leather chairs, dusted hundreds of books and a myriad of picture frames.  Purged the pantry and restored the refrigerator to a model of shiny organization.  I have pinned new butterflies to the stuffed lion’s mane and cleaned all the reverse painted lampshades.  Edward’s bed looks showroom new.  The Songwriter was enlisted to thoroughly scour the mudroom, a task he took on without complaint... at least none I could hear whenever I passed by, and now.... at last... we are ready.  

Ready to open every window on that first crisp morning when the air rushes in like laughter, carrying the fragrance of wood smoke and pine.  Ready to bake bread and cook pancakes.  Ready to bury my neck in a red turtleneck sweater, to throw a tartan blanket on top of my bed.  Ready to plan Halloween decorations and Thanksgiving dinners. Ready make presents for Christmas.  I want to see Edward and Apple bounce through the garden like puppies, at last released from the heat of the summertime months.  I want to read fat books, make apple pies and drink cider.  I want to forget all about air-conditioning and breathe the fresh air in every room.  

I am ready to open the windows. 

I am ready for a brand new year.

How about you?