A Bedtime Fable

 

            I was tired. I was so tired it felt like an out of body experience. In my mind’s eye I could see myself flopped out on the bed sideways, fully dressed. Man, that woman looked pooped with her arms flung out in full surrender.
            It had been a couple of days, and a half. Tis the season, right? Jolly with undernotes of fraught. Today had been the big day. There was the roast. Then there were the potatoes, the salad, finger foods, drinkables, fruitcake, those things. There were the dishes. The flowers sat in center stage, a signal.
            Roses in December!
            There had been tears, and reconciliation, but as wonderful as that was, it takes a lot out of a woman to be the facilitator. Her mind wandered, hinting at sleep. I could see that I was losing focus there on the bed. Anybody could have seen it.
            I had instructed all of my various relations that I wanted nothing. Please. The stuff of a lifetime surrounded me. No more!
            What did this woman want for Christmas, she asked herself with a laugh, alone there in the dark bedroom. Performing some combination of wish and dream, she told herself that she wanted someone to put her to bed. Let someone else do the heavy lifting for once! She was too tired.
            The tired woman wished to be tended by tigers. It was, admittedly, odd, but then she might have been dreaming. Tiger lady’s maids. Helpful tigers. Beautiful tigers…
            “I wish that tigers would put me to bed and let me sleep!” she whispered. “I can’t do it.”
            The closet door was standing open, as it usually was. In the dark recesses, at the back, under the hanging clothing, there was an alien sound. A light windiness. Some rustling, and after that quiet padded footsteps.
            Heavy footsteps coming nearer.
            An impossible, huge striped face popped out of the closet opening and paused. Her golden eyes scanned the room then seized on the woman lying sideways on top of the bed. The rest of the impossibility followed its face into the room. Another followed. They glanced at each other, nearly nodded and approached the bed.
            The first tiger, who shall be named Myrna, rumbled deeply in her chest. She knew her work. Such tigers are very wise.
            The following tiger, Philina, rumbled her agreement.
            Each tiger took one of the sleeper’s hands in her gentle mouth, as she would have picked up a kitten, and pulled the lady to a sitting position. Her head flopped forward and her hair, falling out of its clip, hung down nearly to her lap.
            The lady wore a long sleeved red sweater. Myrna and Philina each gripped a side of the sweater at its hem and pulled it forward until it popped clear of the woman’s form. The sleeves cleared her last. She wore a sport bra. A one piece thing. They dealt with it in the same fashion.
            Then Myrna, with a little wuff, gave her a soft push, allowing her to lie back down across her bed. She lay there without motion. Her dark hair was fanned out around her head in tangles.
            Myrna looked around the room. She seemed to know what she wanted. At last she found the nightgown hanging on a hook behind the bedroom door. She rose up on her hind feet, taller than the door, so that she could unhook it, then she carried it over to the bed.
            The woman wore sandals. Philina, using her teeth gently, pulled them off of the woman’s feet and set them together neatly under the bed. They wouldn’t be lost in the morning.
            Getting her out of her jeans was harder. But they did it inch by inch, rolling her from side to side and tugging.
            Myrna hung the jeans on the hook on the back of the door first. Then she hung the sweater over it, so as not to leave any untidiness for morning.
            Then they set to work putting her nightgown over her head. First they had to sit her up again. Working together using their teeth they settled it over her head.
            “Stand up, please,” said Myrna in a voice like butterscotch. And like an obedient sleepy child the woman stood, and the nightgown’s hem fell down around her feet. But her arms still weren’t in the sleeves.
            “Sally,” whispered Philina, “Put your arms into your sleeves, please.”
            And Sally did as she was bidden.
            Philina’s golden eyes looked on in fond approval. Her whiskers were wonderful to behold when she was pleased.
            While Sally was still standing, Myrna climbed up on the bed like the tiger in some old painting, and carefully pulled the covers back.
            Sally still stood there in her long white nightgown, dreaming perhaps.
            Myna and Philina each put her head under one of Sally’s arms and guided her to bed. Myrna pulled the covers up to Sally’s chest level and then she hopped back down to the floor.
            Sally looked just about right lying there.
            But, being tigers, there was one more thing. As tenderly as the mothers they were, they scrubbed her face and hands with their rough tongues until they felt she was clean enough to be allowed to sleep.
            Some wind could be hear softly sighing in the back of the closet. Myrna looked at Philina and then at the closet.
            First Myrna, then Philina padded softly to the open closet door. One large striped body after the other disappeared into its depths. Nothing remained, not even a whisper of wind. The hanging clothing shifted a bit and then was still.
            In the bed, Sally smiled and rolled over onto her left side. Sleepily, she pulled her pillow down into a better position. She placed her hands just so. She felt as if she might sleep until noon the next day. Not a doubt about it. None at all.

Northbound I-5 by the Fogline

            Since I was driving my daughter back to Seattle anyhow, we decide to take a look at some of the flooded areas around the town of Snohomish. This involved taking old Broadway south out of Everett, and turning left on the Lowell-Larimer road which goes down to the level of the Snohomish River and follow it along into the small city of Snohomish. All of these shots were take by Navigator.

            We had the window down and it was very chilly and wet out there. 

            These photographs are taken of the area across the road from the actual river.

            In town, we saw that the river was back down into its bed, but the fields all around were still full of water.

            We checked to see if it was possible to drive across the valley shown in the video yesterday. But it was still closed, thought was obvious that the water level across the valley was going down.

            The best way to get out of the area was to take Highway 9 southward, so that's what I did. We visited Woodinville on the way to Bothell and then on to Seattle proper.

            It was a very dim, grey, rainy trip.

            Not much of a day for photos!

Notice the tractor up to its engine in water?

 

            One of those houses along that road where it has flooded many times. The wise man built his house with a big flow through basement level!

            Unfortunately, this is the tweaker camp. The city lets them stay.

            Bound for home finally. This is the intersection of 65th and Roosevelt Way in Seattle's University district. The sun was trying to get through the clouds a little. It was nice, not raining there. But on I-5 about when I got to Shoreline it started raining. It was a thick rainfall. It was like that all the way to Everett. I really did have to keep my eye on the fogline!

            So, that's my December 26th report. Glad to be out of the rain!

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Just A Word From Our Sponsor

 

            

            Hey, greetings everybody! I thought I'd just stop by and say "Hi!" I also had another great idea! You know, great ideas are how I roll!

            I'm here to issue a standing invitation for you to come on up and visit the Great Forest. I'll be here. We might even bump into each other, if we're both lucky at the same time.

            Sometimes it looks dark and gloomy here, but it's not really like that.

             It's grey, soft, obscure...a dreamy landscape where anything is possible.

            While I'm at it, does anybody have anything you'd like to ask me? If I'm not around just whistle up Maeve and she'll bring me the message on mighty black wings. 

            It's been a heck of a great year. 

            Love, RALPH

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Merry Christmas Dear Friends

 

Happiest of Christmas Days to You!
All Cats and Kitties,
Bunnies, Doggies and Mice,

All Winged Things,

All of Creation!
May GOD bestow all of His Blessings upon You!

Today and Always!

🤍

How Can It Be? It's Christmas Eve Already!

 

We're wishing you happiness this Christmas Eve.
It's been wonderful sharing 2025 with you all!
Peace & Love,
P and LoneStar

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So, What Do Girls Want For Christmas?

 

            It was a funny time of year for it, but Twigg had been working on something. He had been thinking about the little house of living saplings that he had made for Bernadette and all the B’s. He knew that it could be done full size and he was thinking that a Basket House of his own, near his family would be a fine thing and that it would un-crowd the family cave to have him sleeping in his own place.
            So he picked a spot at the edge of the meadow where tall alder saplings grew in a convenient pattern. It wasn’t too far from the Gifting Stump where he and Marge had first met and made friends. He wasn’t in a big hurry, he was mostly planning and thinking of how best to make it.
            There was some snow out there, but snow doesn’t concern such as Twigg very much, in fact they enjoy the nice cold stuff. Forest People are very warm blooded.
            The morning after the night that he had walked into the campground to Marge’s camp host mobile, Twigg got up early. He wanted to talk to Ramona. He knew she was out there working around her fire, stirring up something for the first meal of their day.
            She was frying a great quantity of grated potatoes and onions, courtesy of Ooog’s winter storage of those two items. There would be warmed over venison too. And coffee.
            Twigg stepped out into the cold morning air, with his breath flying out before him. He closed the green door quietly, and said, “Mom?”
            “Yes, my beloved son?” said Ramona.
            “I wanted to ask you something about girls,” said he.
            “Oh! Ask away. You have come to an expert. Why, I myself, was a girl at one time,” said his mother.
            “I thought so,” said Twigg. “What I want to know is what do you think I can give Marge for this Christmas time that the humans have? What do girls want?”
            She flipped her potatoes and onions over thoughtfully. He didn’t see that her eyebrows were up while she thought. Then she said, “Well, the answer to that comes in two parts. The first part is that if she cares about you, anything that you give her will be precious to her. In a way it doesn’t matter.
            “However, it will matter to you. I think that you must make her something that represents you. Something not too large. Something that will last. Because she will keep it forever and you want it to be well made. But, what, I can’t tell you,” said Ramona at last, turning back to him.
            “Do you remember what I said to you a while ago, Twigg?” she said.
            “Yes, Mom, I do remember,” he said, a little sadly, because his heart was a very sweet and tender heart. Ramona knew this.
            “Some sort of keepsake, Twigg. Maybe a place to keep her hopes and dreams in,” said the mother.
            They heard the door to the cave open then and Ralph came out blowing steam in the cold air and yawning. He was followed by Cherry and Blue in a moment. Cats don’t care for potatoes and onions, so they stayed abed for a while. They do like venison though, so eventually they came out too.    
            So, the family ate and the day began.
            Twigg went out to his chosen building site. He had an idea of what he wanted to make for the gift. It would be made of small twigs. So he gathered an armful of the smaller branches off of the alder saplings. He carried these back home.
            He worked all day, sitting by the fire where the light was good. The cave was dim inside.
            When he was done, he had made an oval shaped shallow basket about 12 inches long with a recessed lid. He decorated the lid with some Oregon grape leaves, which look a lot like holly, though he knew nothing of the tradition of holly at Christmas. He put a layer of small Douglas fir branch tips inside it in a soft layer.
            Next, he made his way to the river. He was losing the light, since the days were so short, but he had time to search among the gravel just at the edge of the stream where he found a handful of small agates and a few other pretty rocks.
            Back at the Home Clearing, Twigg arranged the rocks inside the basket. At last he was pretty pleased with the effect.
            He was eager to take the basket to Marge immediately, so basket in arm, Twigg walked back to the deserted campground, heading to Marge’s little place. As he approached, he thought that it looked so pretty with its string of multi-colored lights arranged around the front of the mobile. The lights framed her kitchen window where the small Christmas tree shone out into the darkness. He could see why the Hairless loved those lights. They weren’t able to make the little lights like he and his people could, which Twigg thought was a little sad.
            Making brand new big footprints in the snow, he walked straight to her door and knocked. Then he waited.
            She opened the door just a crack to see who was knocking on her door in the dark of the campground.
            “Twigg! Come in,” Marge said. “Can you fit through this little door?”
            He ducked his head and stepped in. “I guess so,” he said.
            “What brings you here tonight, Twigg?”
            “I couldn’t wait. I made you a present for your Christmas, Marge, look!” said Twigg.
            And look she did, slowly and carefully. She lifted the lid after examining its décor, and touched the rocks inside.
            “Twigg, this is the most beautiful thing I have ever had in my life. You are a true artist. It’s too wonderful!” she said. She just looked at the basket for a few silent moments.
            “You know what? I have something for you too!” laughed Marge. “Hang on, it’s in the other room.”
            “Let me explain,” she said. “I got you a Swiss Army knife, a red one so it’s easier to find if you drop it somewhere. But then I thought, oh no, Twigg doesn’t exactly have pockets. So, I bought you a crossbody bag to put it in! And here it is!”
            She handed him the knife, after demonstrating how it worked. He handled it as if it were the most precious thing he had ever seen. Then she showed him how to wear the bag and that it had a zipper.
            “Thank you, Margie,” Twigg whispered. “It’s beautiful and I will always and always keep it forever. I could have used a knife today!”
            “Are you hungry?” said Marge, knowing that a Squatch is always hungry. “Let’s make some sandwiches and tea. I have corned beef, Swiss cheese and rye bread. You’ll love it!”
            She made room on her table for the beautiful basket, then gathered supplies for the sandwiches, and started water for tea.
            Twigg watched while she made three big thick sandwiches. Two were for him and one for her. He did love the sandwiches and thought the tea was very nice too, especially since she put quite a lot of sugar in it.
            They talked and laughed for an hour or so, then Twigg said, “I’ll go home now.”
            When he stood to go, Marge hugged him, which was kind of comical because he was about 7 feet tall and she was about 5’7”. So basically she kind of hugged his middle. But they didn’t care.
            They said their goodnights and he left the same way he had come, making even more big footprints in the snow.
            Marge locked the little metal door. Then she sat on her kitchen chair looking at the basket. She wept a bit because she was a girl and that’s what girls do, sometimes. She knew she would keep the twig basket as long as she lived.

🎁

The Crowds At Christmas Time

🎄 Merry Christmas!🎅

Three Shopping Days to Christmas!

Seattle, in more colorful recent days!

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In 1954 Northgate Mall had the world's tallest Christmas tree.

The whole story about that.

            Do you remember the countdown before Christmas? First there were months of shopping days, then there were 20 something days. Then there would be a week, or less than a week? This was serious business! You sure didn’t want to be out trying to get some shopping done before the stores closed on Christmas Eve. And yet, some people did that very thing.
            I think back to before Amazon, or catalog shopping. You had to show up in person, with your checkbook in hand. This was before the internet ruled life.
            And yet, though it sounds strange now, there was a cheerful busyness to it. It was part of the season, part of the celebration of Christmas was being out there on the hunt for the best gifts you could find at your local stores.
            There was even a time before shopping malls! Do you remember?
            If you lived downtown there were usually some department stores, and that’s where most people did their Christmas shopping.
            Now, as it happens, I remember the 1950s from a child’s point of view. The first place I remember being brought along to while my mother shopped was Seattle’s Northgate Mall, which happens to have been the first mall in the sense we think of a mall in the whole United States. It was built in 1950 and it was a new thing. To a small girl it was quite an experience. Crowded. Everyone either in a sort of Christmas state of mind, or else not so much.
            We used to go out in the world and be among one another. Amazing. Just as if we were social creatures, and even recognized each other as fellow people on a mission.
            Even non-Christmas shopping and other business was done in person, out in the open around other people. It sounds maybe a little quaint now. Heck, the grocery shopping used to be a social experience. You were forced to deal with other humans face to face, more or less. There's nothing wrong with a little anonymous sociabilty.
            I’m thinking it might be good to do some of that again.
            So, back to the countdown, we have today, tomorrow, and maybe Christmas Eve left for Christmas prep.
            I hope that all of your shopping and mailing are done already and you are having a relaxed and cheerful holiday time!

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