We've spent the day together but now everyone has wandered off to their own pursuits. Daughter to her art studio where she is enjoying new oil paints, blank canvases, empty sketchpads, and charcoal pencils. Her first sketch was of Keil Bay, and she captured his eye and his whiskers with perfection.
Son is in his room listening to a new soundtrack he bought with an iTunes card from his stocking. It became apparent this year that he spent most of his gift budget on me: a pair of moonstones in a filmy bag, a tiny flask, and a skeleton key, all of which will find their way onto my little writing shrine in my garret. His blank canvas is money in his account, which he's saving for something special.
Husband is on a reconnaisance mission in town.
Horses are making peace with the little electric car across the road while they munch their hay in the front field. They've all galloped up the hill a number of times, more frolic than fear, heads high and ears pricked forward.
Cats are curled in various spots in the living room, worn out from new toy play and too much catnip.
Corgyn are outside sleeping flat out; after turkey necks, iced dog biscuits from the doggie bakery, and a few regular biscuits, what more is there to do but dream of running wild with a pack of their own kind, across a misty moor in Wales?
Merry Christmas! Don't forget to stop for a moment and let it all sink in.