It Came From Above!

  Weather is a fickle thing.  At least, the weather in the Deep South is.  In the early morning, you don a sweatshirt and jeans while walking through heavy fog and, by afternoon, you bask in the hot sunshine wearing a T-shirt after having kicked off the shoes.  Here it is the middle of December and our day was literally HOT!  The outdoor thermometer read 84!  Such temperatures sure did not match up with the snowmen decorations that I was placing in the entryway!  Don't despair!  Tomorrow, we shall see rain before a cold front smacks us with freezing temperatures!  My snowmen will feel right at home!

  Son and I cut firewood, today, in preparation for this next cold snap.  The two cast iron woodstoves will be chugging nicely, all the while, consuming the chunks of pecan wood.  Perhaps a bit of cooler weather will get me in that "Christmas Spirit" that I am so lacking.  Yes, the Little Bayou House is decorated with a tree, garland and lots of twinkly lights.  Yes, the table is being mounded over with delightful baked goods.  Yes, gifts are in every nook and corner.  No, I am not into it.  I do, however, love the coziness of the place. 

  This afternoon, while I was carrying an armload of firewood to the bin, something fell out of the old oak tree and smacked me on the head.  At first, I thought perhaps a squirrel binged me with an acorn but, when I stopped to check, I found it was a small sprig of mistletoe.  I have always heard you should stand beneath the mistletoe in hopes of catching a kiss from someone but I never knew the stuff would bean you on the head!  It was a good thing that this was just a twig and not the whole bunch that is growing in the treetop!

  Funny thing about that mistletoe stuff...it comes from the Anglo-Saxon words mistel and tan.  While that may seem logical, it is illogical that we wish to kiss under it when you realize that the word mistel means "dung" and tan means "twig".  So...poop on a stick is the stuff you are hanging above your doorway while awaiting your honey bunches.  Sorry, that does not sound overly romantic.  Neither does having the stuff drop out of trees on top of your head.