A White Christmas?

It is mid December and I am afraid we might be going to get the Southern Hemisphere White Christmas none of us have been dreaming of.

It has been raining for a week and our cottage perched on the ridge of Mount Tiger is enveloped in white mist rising from the valley below.

At first, I was worried the dirty grey clouds gathering might bypass my garden. Now I am thinking they are like visitors who have out stayed their welcome.

I have smelly damp washing stacking up in piles, my drier is broken, mud is being trekked inside and my garden is in danger of going moldy with blight.

It is getting depressing.

The chickens are depressed.

They started off scratching jauntily in the rain looking for floating worms. After a prolonged soaking an interesting change occurred in their appearance. Half of them developed shrunken heads and enlarged Elizabethan collars, while the other half sported bushy Punk-Rocker hair styles and skinny necks.  

 Normally at 6 30am they are lined up by the gate demanding their breakfast, but none of them got out of bed this morning.

Even the neighbors’ water tank got depressed with the excessive water. It had a nervous brake-down and collapsed with a sonic boom and a 3o,ooo liter tsunami that hurled tree roots and debris down the hillside.

It is now the eighth day of rain and no sign of let up.

In spite of rising cabin fever and a few spots of frayed temper,  

(noticeably mine), we are trying to keep up the Christmas spirit.

 During a drought of half an hour, the kids managed to fell and dry (I’m not sure how), a small Pine tree. It is stuffed in the corner awaiting lights and surrounded by presents shrouded in ingenious home-made wrapping paper. I particularly like the blue Telecom paper bag salvaged from the dustbin and gussied up with a large red fabric bow.

There is a glaring, white, damp light penetrating the window. John is busy trying to draw a mud snowman and Paul is composing a song about dreaming of a brown Christmas.

At least it is warm and I don’t have to water my fruit trees.

Personally, I ‘m dreaming of a bright green Christmas;

Regardless of your Hemisphere and the colour of your Christmas, the Hamilton’s of a Patch of Heaven hope you have a blessed one.