When my garden is in full bloom, I can walk out the back door and create a bouquet with flowers grown specifically for that purpose. Then there are the months of winter when all is brown and gray.
I don’t have a lot of happy childhood memories of Christmas. My dad, who just happened to be a fallen-away Jehovah’s Witness, hated the holiday, and without meaning to, he often spoiled things for everyone. I won’t bore you with all the gory details, because they are the same old story acted out in many homes. Alcohol mixed with melancholy makes a nasty brew.
Christmas is always a challenge, but I decided, long ago, to enjoy it.