A quiet day here for us. Another dripping, cold, misty day; cars had their sidelights on all day and it never seemed to get fully light. It was getting dark at 5pm, a thickening of the mist. A typical November day. I found thirty minutes this afternoon to repot the outdoor Christmas tree. We bought it in Cooksons in Southport about three years ago, a small blue spruce in a red pot. I love the idea of an outside tree; Christmas as a time of great darkness and tiny lights. Cold wet hands scratched by the spruce's needles even through thick gardening gloves. A strangely wintry job to do, a precursor of December and Christmas. Even mixing the heavy compost - made by our own worms, I am proud to say - with grit seemed like the heavy mixing of a Christmas cake.
No bonfire tonight for us, even in celebration of Obama's victory in the American elections. We've not seen any fireworks either. Country rituals seem sparser, less intense; more about darkness and silences at this time of year perhaps.
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