Looking out my Backdoor - From Big Sky to Big Earth

Perception is all. I love the Big Sky Country. I like to picture it this way: I stand and slowly turn a whole circle. When I look downward, I see the earth. When I look outward and upward, the sky is a gigantic bowl, covering and visibly encompassing, caressing the earth.

I love this new country of mine, the Big Earth Country. That's the wonderful thing about love. There is always room for more. Here I stand and turn a circle and all around me is the earthy world, the fields and trees and mountains in every direction. To find sky, I must tilt my head upward. Ah, yes, sky. Here, in Jalisco, the earth is the bowl holding up the inverted teacup of sky.

Moving into December with a full moon means the nightlight is as bright as daylight in the Pacific Northwest in winter.

For days around the full moon, I see a different world. After daylight comes a short hour of almost dark. The moon towers above the trees like a giant kite, dragging behind a tail of the in-between, not dark, not full day. This shaded-light-night lasts until sun-up bursts full on.

Now that I've waxed poetic, let's move on to other considerations of love. This month the full moon drops November with the leftover turkey and introduces December.

Ah, December, the month of wretched excess. December, the month of guilt.

Have you written your annual Christmas letter, mailed that stack of Christmas cards shedding glitter all over the desktop onto the rug? No? Well, me neither. In fact, by the time I remembered cards, yesterday, I realized if I mailed cards today they would get to you in February, possibly.

As for a Christmas letter, maybe I'll write one next week to send via ghost mail.

Did you slide your magic plastic and buy the children and or grandchildren gifts that you wanted when you were that age? Gifts you would have wanted, had they been invented? Gifts that make a stack higher than the tree.

'Tis the season for giving. How often we hear that phrase. How quickly we mentally translate that to "'tis the season for buying."

I suspect this year the giving/buying season will undergo adjustments by all of us.

Enough with my Bah Humbug! I got to feeling so Christmas-y that I decorated my tree already, well before Christmas week.

Here at the rancho we traditionally gather several times for shared meals. Not this year. Plates of baked goodies make the rounds. Not this year.

For me, this is a year to reconnect with friends I've neglected.

People email me, "Are you still alive?" And it is a real concern.

For me, this is a lingering time of deep solitude. But it is not a time to disconnect from loved ones.

My friend Karen said it best, "I will never again take a hug for granted."

My Christmas tree is sparse, a new lime tree I planted in my postage-stamp sized front lawn. I chose to decorate my lime so all who pass by may see it and grin.

Charlie Brown lives - and loves.

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Sondra Ashton grew up in Harlem but spent most of her adult life out of state. She returned to see the Hi-Line with a perspective of delight. After several years back in Harlem, Ashton is seeking new experiences in Etzatlan, Mexico. Once a Montanan, always. Read Ashton's essays and other work at http://montanatumbleweed.blogspot.com . Email [email protected].