Sugar Rush...

In the days leading up to my flight back to California, I kept the sight seeing to a minimum with only three trips to London and Brighton.  The rest of the time, I set about expanding my grandparents' waistlines as only a kitchen deprived baking enthusiast can do.  Rhubarb tarts, cardamom custards, lemon cakes...You name it and I was trying stuff another dessert on the table.  Finally, I got cut-off; banned from the kitchen in the interest of arteries, blood sugar, and simple nutritional health. 

 Left to my own devices, however, I would have kept going and going and going.

East London...

After a bittersweet farewell to the island that had been our home this month, we set off on the first leg of the journey homeward.  The time that had passed while we were on the road seemed, from this vantage point, both endless and lightning quick simultaneously.  Trying to think back upon the experience in its entirety is nearly impossible.  I've found that it's to remember things hour by hour, methodically walking myself back through a specific day, revisiting sights and sounds and sensations...  I was ready to go home, but I also knew that settling back into real life might prove a little challenging.  It is better, I think to sort of ease back into things.  London was the first stop in this transition.

 

Deborah and Morgan, our friends from Atlantis gave us the most compelling tour of London; by the end of the first day we spent following them around the East Side, I was just about convinced that I had to move to Shoreditch.  (And this thought even with cold weather!) 

Together we walked along the canals, through the Chelsea Flower Market, street food fairs, and bustling streets.  Sundays in London have a liveliness to them that's contagious and my fears of the trip coming to a close were trumped by an excitement to plan the next adventure.

Winter Colors...

The sun sets early here in England, ending my urban explorations and countryside walks much earlier than I'm used to, and filling my head with dissonant thoughts about the earth's axial tilt, obliquity, ellipses and other terms that ought to be locked far, far away in physics classroom where I don't have to be subjected to them. 

Uninvited as they are, among these thoughts about the planet's comings and goings is a glimmer of good tidings.  According to science textbooks and ancient warlocks alike, yesterday was the Winter Solstice, the shortest day of the year, which means today is just a little tiny bit longer.  And even though I probably won't be able to tell the difference myself, this is still very exciting news.  It means summer is coming (more or less), and I can't wait!

 

 

 

 Uninhibited by the lack of proper footwear (Hunter rainboots seem to be the uniform de rigeur here), I have quite enjoyed walking through the fields of Nonsuch and Horsham Parks partaking in what seems to be the British past time of slow strolling.  Maybe it's the season, with everything exploding in the reds and greens of the Christmas season, but no one seems to be at all deterred by the weather. 

I know one Californian in need of a bigger jacket...

Bah Humbug...

Oh, Christmas.  

How I love having an excuse to bake more often than normal- which usually means taking up entire fridge shelves with tupperwares of dough.

And how I love designing gingerbread houses, even though the time commitment for this sort of project usually means I kind of fizzle out just shy of complete execution.

I love pretty wrapping papers and packaging string, although, as a southpaw, I am completely inept with scissors and can't wrap neatly to save my life.

I love the strings of lights draped over everything, and how, if you squint your eyes, they all turn into stars.

I love hot chocolate, flavored with candy canes.

I love seeing wreathes on everyone's doors.

I love sitting and watching the fireplace crackle at the Swan's house.

I love the smell of fir and the burning incense curling up from the pipes of the räuchermann, and decorating the house with painted wooden ornaments from the German Christmas markets. 

And this year I developed a new Christmas love for the "nightcap", compliments of my grandmother. (Athough I don't think that this tradition is going to fade with the holiday season.)

Yet, despite all the things that make Christmas really special, I am pretty certain December 25th is my very least favorite day of the year. 

I am sure this benign word choice would be considered an quite an understatement if you were to ask anyone in my family.  They might be more liking quoted using strong verbs like hate, or despise, etc.

I can't really explain to you why this is.  Sure, you could attribute it to some innate loathing of materialism, but that would be entirely false, as I love presents, and anyone who has glanced at my Svpply knows, I am a wee bit materialistic.  Perhaps you might blame it on the weather or maybe the music.  But again, I've lived in the Southern Hemisphere and I promise you, this condition does not get any better regardless of the forecast, and last Christmas was spent entirely Jingle-free.

The simple fact remains that I am the holiday grinch.

And this is an apology to anyone who has ever had to spend Christmas with me.