One of my favorite Christmas stories is that of a cat. A Christmas Cat.
Where I grew up, in New Hampshire, it was the home of a writer/illustrator and her daughter, also a writer/illustrator: Tasha Tudor and Efner Tudor Holmes.
My grandmother always bought their illustrated stories and gave them to me when I was a little girl. I loved them.
The old-fashioned stories speak to simple things that bring joy and contentment.
The Christmas Cat is my favorite of all their stories.
I pull it from the bookshelf every Christmas and place it on the coffee table. Familiar and complete with its pink book jacket, it reminds me of home and Christmases long ago.
I think of farming and doing chores on Christmas morning.
I fondly think of old kitchen fireplaces, cozy nooks, and gingerbread cookies baking in the oven.
I can smell a fresh Christmas tree and spruce sprigs hanging inside old, drafty windows, crusted with snow on the small window panes.
This story makes me think of simplicity at Christmas.
Resourceful rather than excessive and thoughtful rather than haphazard.
Quiet rather than loud.
It’s a reminder when the holiday to-do list seems to swirl, and the overwhelming feeling of being busy tries to take over; go back–and remember when…
Merry Christmas…
With love,
Kate
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