A few thoughts on Christmas 2025

I've been pondering what, if anything, needs to be recorded about Christmas 2025. Many things have been laid on my heart this season, and I hardly know where to begin. There is a wisdom that says look to the big things first, and the small things will fill in around them. I think that is true.

This was my second Christmas without Ron. I could argue it was really my third because in 2023, he was sicker than I knew, and he wasn't talking. He was here, but he slept most of the time. I worried, but without his cooperation, there wasn't a lot I could do. 

So, Christmas alone. Yes. Ron's sister had me up to her house twice, but Christmas Day was spent alone. On Christmas Eve, my cousin and I walked the dogs in the morning, and that was the only person I talked to all day. Christmas morning brought a flurry of texts, but I spoke to no one. There is a peace, and a reckoning, to silence and solitude. I sat with my thoughts and they were good company. 

I thought about making a Christmas Day video, but shelved the idea. I'll get around to making one shortly, after dinner at the cousin's house. Today is when all the grandkids can come. Their respective father's get them on Christmas Day, and we don't make a fuss about it and make the kids feel guilty. Their grandparents are smarter than that. In a few short years, the grandkids will be able to decide for themselves where they want to be for Christmas. We shall see. 

I stopped decorating for Christmas a decade ago, when adding a tree to our smaller space would have gotten in the way of Ron's wheelchair. This year, I almost missed having one. I debated getting one until I saw the price tags. Nooooooooo. The little ceramic tree that came from my grandmother will suffice. I did, however, do a small craft project to hang some of my fancier balls in the front window. It was enough to satisfy the urge to decorate. The bow window has four glass panels, and I didn't realize my project would look like a cross once hung. I think I'll modify it next year. 

Ron was a great gift-giver. Over the years, he gave me three sets of pearls. The first set was a choker with stud earrings. I loved it - a lot. But this year, I gave the set to his daughter. She cried. I felt a few pangs parting with the pearls, but she needed something of value from her father, and that was the best I had to give her. It's not like she needs a set of Snap-On wrenches, so it was the pearls. 

The only close female cousin I grew up with called me yesterday to tell me she's going to be a grandmother again. Totally unexpected, unplanned, but everyone is happy about it. I'm given to understand her son is going for the snip-snip early in 2026. At least they know how it happened! 

It may have been Christmas Day, but gardening fever is beginning. I measured the outside dimensions of my garden space and trolled the Internet for the type of fencing I want for my corner. I checked out websites for seeds, and I suspect the good stuff won't come online until after the Christmas sales. I looked at elevated beds and decided I don't need something off the A-list. How many more years will I be gardening? I don't know, so a product that will last eight to ten years is sufficient. This year coming, 2026, needs to be the year I go ahead and purchase everything I want so I will have a few years to enjoy having my garden space "perfect for me."

Deuce officially turns ten in January 2026. I've resisted visiting Labrador websites. Do I really want to get a puppy in 2026? Do I want to get another dog at all? I always thought Deuce would be my last dog and Ron and I would have more freedom to be away from home for longer periods of time. That certainly did not work out as planned. As I get older, I worry who will care for Deuce if something happens to me. It'll be worse with the next dog. It's sobering to consider. 

This Christmas has driven home just how many ways my life has changed. It's not better, it's not much worse, but it is different. Change comes to us all, and it is often an uncomfortable bedfellow. Not even hope, peace, love, and joy can alter the progression of time. 

The Lady of Holly Tree Manor/The Hideaway

Holly Tree Manor, The Hideaway, Christmas 2025, black Labrador Retriever, family, aging, life changes, holiday recollections, rural living, country lifestyle, 

The weight of belongings

In my younger days, I collected reindeer, stags to be exact. It's peculiar because I did not know when I started that the stag holds a prominent place in my paternal family's coat of arms. That coat of arms was granted to the family by one of the Popes back in the 1500s. Only those born with the proper last name may use and display the coat of arms, per the terms that pope set forth. Sorry to all my male first cousins - you're out! 

Everyone was under the rule of some pope in those days but it's 2023. If my cousins want to claim and use the coat of arms, I sure don't care. Their mothers could have used it. 

My stag collection is pretty extensive. Family and friends found out I was collecting and the herd grew every Christmas season until I actually had to put a stop to it. I loved getting new pieces, but I ran out of room for them. 

Storing them became a multi-level problem. Some of them were fragile and antlers and legs started to fall off. Some had shiny, sparkly silver finishes that wore off giving them the appearance of mange. The herd aged poorly. 

This year, as with previous years, I got the storage bin down from the attic, made the necessary repairs, and set them about the great room. The Christmasy things have long been packed up for the year, but being that the herd is seasonal and not just for Christmas, it remained out. Today was the day to put them back in the attic. But today was different. 

Today I grew a spine and culled the herd. Those with missing parts have been discarded. The ones with damage to the finish that can no longer be disguised were also discarded. I thought I would be sad but I find I don't feel glad or sad, or much of anything else. 

What I suppose was my sentimentality is slowly falling to the wayside. Things seem to matter less and less unless they have a practical function. I don't have the time or energy for useless things, and that includes anything I have to dust on a regular basis. 

Don't get me wrong. I'm not dancing naked in the backyard and shouting, "I'm free! I'm free!" Material possessions have a place. But after cleaning out my mother's house when she had to go into a care facility, I realized her belongings did not define her. It was an awakening of sorts that neither do my possessions define me. 

Most of my belongings will one day fall victim to time. Either I will discard them, pass the heirlooms on, disburse them through my will, or they will end up in the landfill. 

It's strange that this truth doesn't weigh me down. But then the truth rarely does. 

The Lady of the Hideaway

Holly Tree Manor, The Hideaway, aging, truth, material possessions, time passages, generations, rural living, country lifestyle, heirlooms. stags, belongings

Help needed

I hate to admit it, but I think I need to find a willing young man to help out a few hours a week. The real dilemma is which of the young men in the family wants to actually work for some cash? And I do mean work. I'm not handing out money for nothing. 

Keeping the manor going isn't all that difficult, but there are times I really do miss having Himself able to help me. It bothers him, too. We used to work as a team, and we still do to the best of his abilities, but the fact is that he is physically limited. And while I'm a strong woman, I lack a man's physical strength. These are simply facts. 

There is a saying, "if it is to be it is up to me." That's another fact here at the manor. It is up to me now and I need to adjust my way of thinking, doing, and accomplishing. How do I do this while including the Lord of the Manor? The most expedient way would be to put him in charge of "the hired help," but I know in my heart that won't always work. 

It hurts my heart to admit I need help. I can afford it - that isn't the problem. The problem is trust. I won't allow just anyone to have access to my home. It also hurts my heart that some of my need is predicated on the fact there have been some less-than-positive changes in the way Himself processes information. Things that are important to me are no longer important to him. This is a reflection of his physical health and not of our affection for each other. 

My grandmother used to tell me, "don't get old." Well, time marches on, doesn't it? 

I want to enjoy my retirement, not make myself sick over those things left undone at the end of the day. 

I need help and having admitted that I must now find it.

The Lady of Holly Tree Manor (The Hideaway)

Holly Tree Manor, The Hideaway, needing help, handyman, aging, giving up,