December the 25th .

The saxophonist picked up the Christmas cards from the mat on Wednesday and reappeared in the bedroom . " Look " he said . I looked .

It was his new driving licence .
The slow admin at the consultants office had meant that we had forecast about March .

He took a speculative look on the net . There was his ideal car at the right price at a garage that was fairly near us . He test drove it .

Christmas eve morning we drove it away from the garage .

I had the turkey crown , sprouts etc , etc ready for Christmas day .

This morning , however , I rose early , had a shower and sat wet haired at the table sipping a steaming mug of strong tea .
The saxophonist joined me . There was a very brief and very happy discussion .

I packed corned beef sandwiches , some cheese , some tomatoes . I added Coxes apples and a fiery ginger cake I'd made . The saxophonist boiled the kettle and packed good coffee and some milk .

We stood on a sunny beach . I cried , he grinned and we knew this journey of a years flight from the bad time and the illness was over .
I held him very tight and he held me very tight .

I hope you had a happy Christmas .
We did .

A mile out along the river .

A mile out along the river willows sit along the bank .

Secateurs in coat pocket I go out with a capacious bag .

I cut long lengths but only take what I need and I thank the tree .
I always thank the tree out loud otherwise it doesn't count .

By the lock is a thorny bush plump with rosehips . Snip , snip and home as  the rain comes down .

Now , you must work the willow whilst it's still sappy . Leave it and all you've got is very big twigs .
I force the lengths into a circle , weaving in the ends as I go .Amongst the sappy circle rosehips now sit proud .

I didn't thank the rosehip bush . It has large vicious thorns and the Christmas door wreath has indeed got plenty of rosehips on it.
The pale wood now has some of my blood staining it where the thorns caught me .
That's justice and the staining would not be noticeable unless you knew .

Along the road are plastic wreaths that light up and manufactured wreaths , every one made to exacting factory standards . Some are made by people who take a stall and sell the things for jaw dropping prices and there are some that are discount shop bargains .
I think that they all count . Shut the door and you're not getting the benefit , instead you cheer the weary traveller coming up the hill . That's unselfish and I like that .

The wreath I made , though .
Ah , that speaks of an older history and a deeper furrow .
People before me , down the years , have cut willow and been pricked by rosehip thorns .
I am proud to hold hands with them this season .