And so it begins
Every season is my favourite. Until the next begins. Then that season is my favourite. There is not a season that I do not love.
1st December 2023, 5.45am.
The day begins. It is dark and quiet, apart from the click of the radiators and the murmur of the boiler as it hums into life. I tiptoe downstairs and let the dogs out for a sniff and a stretch and a pee.
I make tea and return to bed. We sit quietly under the duvet, enjoying the cozy warmth. I read on my phone, sipping my tea, and Mr Powell plays candy crush. The dogs settle again, Suzie and Spirit snuggled together on the chair and Steve curled up on the cushion by my side.
Mr Powell is first to pull himself from bed, I reluctantly follow.
I go to wake Thomas. Suzie, Spirit and Steve all jump on him, they stick their noses in under the duvet where he hides, tickling his nose with their furry whiskery faces and lick him awake.
Mischief makers
Eric, Esmerelda and Flashy Thomas McSleighbells have arrived overnight. In their first night of mischief making this year, they have taped themselves upside down to the inside of the kitchen cupboard.
Eric first visited us in 2015. His mischief making was legendary. The following year, he was joined by Esmerelda and the phrase double trouble took on special meaning. Flashy Thomas McSleighbells has been a much more recent addition to the festive antics, making the terrible twosome a threesome in 2021. We have been relieved these past few years to share the creative burden of coming up with new and exiting escapades for the troublesome threesome with our daughter, Katelyn. She has an endless imagination for creating mayhem that we must then spend all day stepping cautiously around so as not to disturb the carefully crafted chaos.
The voices of Maria Carey, George Michael and Shakin’ Stevens blast from Katelyn’s room, announcing that she has emerged from under her duvet to start the day. She makes good on her promise to play Christmas songs as loud as she can until she heads off to school.
I have been refusing to entertain suggestions that it’s time for Christmas to emerge from the loft before today. No to Christmas films and music. Not yet. Not until today.
Frosted walk
I love the cold, bright and crisp. I feel energised, excited and invigorated by it. I wish for snow, for a hard frost that freezes the ground so that furry bodies and paws will not return home from our walk caked in mud. Alas it is not cold enough for that today.
Before the frost lifts, we leave the house. Out of the close, down the lane and into the woods. I let them off their leads. Steve yelps and squeals in delight as they charge off into the trees. Suzie and Spirit are quiet, the only noise the disturbance of leaf litter as they disappear ahead of me.
In the silence of their departure I hear the leaves falling. A barely audible susurrus as they join their fellows below, drifting down and alighting with a soft rustle of welcome.
A few remaining dead leaves cling like sleepy bats to willowy branches, spaced thinly now that so many of their companions lie below.
Jack frost has decorated the edges of the yellow gorse flowers and spiky leaves with tiny glittering white. Elegant fronds of lichen adorn the branches along the path and a curious robin flits beside me as I walk back down towards the lane.
I am distracted by each new piece of artwork created by the delicate touch of Jack’s icy fingers. Hawthorne berries and rose hips, wild carrot, nettles and hazelnuts. The frost has melted from the oak apples and the patterns of crazing on the large old oak leaves looks like the remains of roads and highways from a minute ancient civilisation.
Home again
I sit at my desk. The dogs are curled up, asleep. The worst of the mud rinsed off in the bath. Suzie dreams, quietly woofing in her sleep.
The smell of an apple cinnamon cider scented candle sets the mood. Ludovico Einaudi plays on repeat in the background. I need to take care now, I can feel the fireflies of inspiration are here. I must be still, not startle them away. I mustn’t allow in the real world with its mundanity because their magic will disappear. I need to stay in this half enchanted reality. Remain in this dreamlike wakefulness. I need to hold lightly, so as not to damage their delicate wings.
I pick up my pencil. There is a question to be answered. Is Aunt Moll from the North Pole?1
Perhaps today we will find out.
And suddenly, just like that, it feels like Christmas.
Bye for now,
P.S. If you’ve enjoyed reading, send some hearts (click the ❤️), comment 💬 or restack🔁 on Substack or share on social media.
When you subscribe, you’ll get a beautiful bundle of illustration assets in my Welcome Letter or upgrade to access my every growing gallery brimming with gorgeous illustrations to create beautiful things for your home, your life and online spaces.
I have added a bundle of Christmas illustration elements to my mini illustration gallery today.
My online shop is open for Christmas, where you can get beautifully designed Christmas cards and gifts. Perfect if you’re looking for something unique and a little whimsical and quirky this year.
Aunt Moll is a character from a magical world that my friend,
and I are creating. In the book, Is Aunt Moll from the North Pole, that I am currently illustrating, Aunt Moll’s nieces and nephews are set on unraveling the mystery!
That is one of the most adorable things I came across so far on my binging on substack in the last weeks. How beautiful. How many gifts you bring: The lighthearted writing, the gorgeous illustrations and your warm voice. Trinity!!! Thank you so much. Also for the gift to subscribers use your illustrations. I am so much looking forward to do so during our 12 Days of Christmas Contemplations :-)
This is so beautiful, Emily ~ thank you for aiding me in my journey to find joy in winter, a tough season for me. I'm also very excited to learn more about your new book - it looks adorable! And yay for new Christmas illustrations!!