By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The holiest of all holidays are those
Kept by ourselves in silence and apart;
The secret anniversaries of the heart,
When the full river of feeling overflows;--
The happy days unclouded to their close;
The sudden joys that out of darkness start
As flames from ashes; swift desires that dart
Like swallows singing down each wind that blows!
White as the gleam of a receding sail,
White as a cloud that floats and fades in air,
White as the whitest lily on a stream,
These tender memories are;--a fairy tale
Of some enchanted land we know not where,
But lovely as a landscape in a dream.
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The house is quiet tonight because Adam is in Fredericksburg, staying with Katherine's family for a couple of days before they fly to San Francisco, and Daniel is still at MAGFest, where the only things I know for sure that he is doing are video games on huge screens, Mario cosplay, catching Pokemon, and drinking a lot of Mountain Dew. Paul worked from home in the morning so we could drive Adam to the Metro together, then he went to the office and I did a bunch of chores in and out of the house (CVS, Goldberg's Bagels, laundry, kitchen disasters, putting gifts away). The cats appeared confused.
We had dinner with my parents (and my mother found her wedding ring which she had lost in a drawer). Afterward, we watched the season finale of His Dark Materials, which I did not like better than the rest of the season, then we caught up on Graham Norton's show, so we got to see the Daisy Ridley-Henry Cavill episode, the Kevin Hart-Dwayne Johnson-Jodie Whittaker-Michael Palin episode (which is hilarious), and the new Tom Hanks-Matthew Rhys-Florence Pugh-Stephen Graham episode. Here are some of the creches on display at the Mormon Temple, which I figured I should post before we get too long past Christmas:
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