Woven into the Christmastime series is the celebration of the season, where the brightness of the holiday contrasts with the darkness of war – opposing elements that help to shape the storylines.
Much of the bright cheerfulness of Christmas comes from deep-rooted traditions: enjoying family and friends over delicious meals,
the sharing of festive treats,
the old-fashioned joys of finding your Christmas tree and decorating it,
the child’s delight in Santa Claus and flying reindeer,
the thrill of a white Christmas.
Layered into the spiritual element that defines the season is the pervasive beauty that fills this time of year:
the deep resonance of traditional music and the joyful togetherness of caroling,
the fragrant woodsy beauty of pine trees, garlands, mistletoe and holly,
decorations that delight the eye and lift the spirit.
And perhaps the oldest and purest source of comfort and beauty comes from light in the darkness: the original form of fire found in bonfires, fireplaces, candles,
the old-fashioned multi-colored bulbs of my youth,
and the more recent fairy lights that bring a sense of twinkling magic.
All add nighttime magic, and comfort in the longer, colder nights.
I try to capture this contrast of light and dark in the covers of the Christmastime series. Lampposts glowing in the twilight and a city lit at night, symbolizing hope and the end of war,
Fewer, or a lonelier, single lit lamppost to reflect the darkest years of the war,
and the beauty of lamplight on snow, tinged with wistful yearning, for the new 1946 cover.
Christmas lights. In the long, cold nights of winter, they offer hope, comfort, magic, and beauty.
My first two books, The Dreams of Youth and Seven Tales of Love, are also my shortest. They can easily be read in an hour or less. They are collections of short stories and sketches that, overall, tell a larger story.
Particularly with The Dreams of Youth. In large part inspired by my mom’s life (though with plenty of creative license taken), six interrelated pieces tell the story of a lifetime in 48 brief pages.
I have a soft spot for these two books. They were compiled years ago on discovering that I could publish my books through Amazon – no agent or publishing house needed (both were first published in 2012, then re-published with indie-author-friendly Bublish in 2016). My lifelong dream of being a writer was now possible, with me in full control! Because I originally wrote them under a pen name (Agnes Irene), I felt free to be a little more creative with the form, mixing sketches with poetry, sometimes using impressionistic language, and tapping into the other eras, particularly WWII.
And in The Dreams of Youth, I used lines from Longfellow’s poem, “My Lost Youth,” as chapter headings. I was always deeply moved by the refrain from that poem – “And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts” – and allowed that inspiration to shape the book. Most of my subsequent books are written in the traditional novel format – except for The Notebooks of Honora Gorman, which is also a compilation.
I don’t often promote my two short books because there isn’t much of a market for them (and to avoid getting negative reviews by people who are disappointed by their length). But for the month of June, I’m lowering the price of The Dreams of Youth to $0.99 in hopes that it will be read and reviewed by readers who are familiar with my style of writing. https://a.co/d/0nIjxUn
To all my readers who have already read and reviewed this book, THANK YOU! And to any new readers, I hope you enjoy it!
https://a.co/d/0nIjxUn – ebook on Amazon. Also available on Google Play, Apple Books, Kobo, and B&N. Soft cover available on Amazon and B&N.
There are many scents that evoke the Christmas season – pine and citrus,
peppermint and gingerbread,
the spices of mulled wine and cider,
cookies being baked.
In the Christmastime series, https://a.co/d/7VG17Qu , old-fashioned ways of celebrating Christmas are woven throughout,
and the scents of Christmas play a big part. Especially the use of citrus and pine.
Greenery decorating a doorframe, mantel, or table,
sprigs of pine and cedar scattered throughout the house.
The cloves and citrus of pomander balls,
the preparation of orange-slice ornaments scenting the kitchen.
Scents can be powerful triggers of holiday traditions and good memories. Evergreens and colorful citrus fruits have the added benefit of also being beautiful and wholesome –
old-fashioned, natural seasonal decorations with scents that are both invigorating and calming.
This holiday, add some beauty and scent to your holiday decor with a bit of woodland greenery and refreshing citrus.
My sorrow, when she’s here with me, Thinks these dark days of autumn rain Are beautiful as days can be; She loves the bare, the withered tree; She walks the sodden pasture lane.
Her pleasure will not let me stay. She talks and I am fain to list: She’s glad the birds are gone away, She’s glad her simple worsted grey Is silver now with clinging mist.
The desolate, deserted trees, The faded earth, the heavy sky, The beauties she so truly sees, She thinks I have no eye for these, And vexes me for reason why.
Not yesterday I learned to know The love of bare November days Before the coming of the snow, But it were vain to tell her so, And they are better for her praise.
After years of dreaming about it, I finally visited Provence, seeing towns and villages that stretched from Avignon on the Rhone,
to Moustiers-Sainte-Marie in the east, with the snow-capped French Alps in the distance.
Although it was too early in the year for its famous lavender and sunflower fields, the Luberon Valley was bursting with flowers. In addition to the cheerful, beloved red poppies,
there was purple everywhere: deep royal irises,
and paler wisteria and lilac, perfuming the air. My greatest surprise was the sheer abundance of flowers — they were everywhere, planted in corners of fields and alongside roads, framing doorways and windows, in planters and atop stone walls.
Provence was everything and more than I had hoped to experience: hilltop villages with distant views,
narrow streets and steep stairs,
inviting bridges and passageways,
picturesque, colorful shutters.
There were rooms of old-world elegance,
others of more rustic decor,
and quaint details everywhere.
Beautiful old churches, rich in detail.
Quiet courtyards, and fountains everywhere.
A travelers delight in the unexpected,
and in unplanned visits: to the lavender museum on a rare rainy day, and the historical perfume museum in Grasse, housed in an beautiful old building
with a scent-rich garden of roses, wisteria, and citrus.
(And a gift shop of fragrant indulgences to take back home.)
Market days in nearly every town infuse the area with vibrancy and interest,
and a relaxing cafe culture pervades all of Provence, offering a slower pace to life.
Which perhaps accounts for the warm and welcoming people we came across everywhere.
There was a real joie de vivre found in the lively conversations that filled the cafes, the delight in the company of friends.
There was riverside dining in villages like L’Isle-sur-la-Sorgue, a historic mill town with waterwheels still turning along its river.
And a visit to the source of the Sorgue,
a gushing fontaine that springs from the nearby mountains (and more riverside dining).
There was the unique village of Roussillon that still bears the reddish color of its famous ochre that was once mined and traded afar.
A nearby hike immerses visitors in the sculpted ochre hills, full of tall pines and purple phlox.
And charming Moustiers offers beautiful views from every angle, every tiny winding street, at every time of day.
Throughout Provence, the soft evenings retain a hint of the old and inviting and mysterious,
Stars and stargazing often make their way into my stories. Beautifully symbolic of hopes and dreams, purity and wonder, they help to tell the inner stories of many of my characters.
Stars play a key role in the fourth book of the Christmastime series, Christmastime 1942: A Love Story (https://a.co/d/j2wI35u). Beginning with the storyline of Gino, the merchant seaman, the topic of stars develops into a unifying connection between him, Tommy and Gabriel, and Charles and Lillian.
The ethereal quality of stars also reveals the quietly eccentric character of Edith. She is comfortable with both the dreamy and pragmatic sides of her nature — and she is in love for the first time.
She opened the drawer to her nightstand and reached for her tin of oil pastels. She lifted the lid, and ran her fingers over the colors, choosing deep Prussian blue and cobalt, gold, silver, and umber. … A sketch emerged of two large pillows, a rumpled comforter, a soft bed under a large window. The night world outside dotted with stars. “Colors of midnight,” she wrote beneath it. She studied the bed, and added a few more lines, and then sprinkled a dusting of stars onto the pillows and blanket.
The main character, Lillian, is under pressure from her demanding boss to submit an idea for a poster contest. With the deadline looming, and despairing over the war and Charles’s imminent return to battle, she awakens in the middle of the night, seeking solace and inspiration.
She quietly went into the living room and turned on the lamp behind the couch. There was the telescope, pointing up, as if in readiness to search the heavens. She was glad for the stars, for their high, untouched beauty that could not be sullied by war, by humanity. She took out her sketch pad and pencils and began to draw.
A sketch began to take shape of a wounded soldier and his sweetheart looking at the same night sky, though thousands of miles apart. [Lillian] added more stars to the skies, trying to convey the belief that high above a war-torn world, the glittering firmament shone benevolently over earth, and that in the end, all would be well and whole again. Simple, humble, human love would help to piece the world back together again.
In The Notebooks of Honora Gorman: Fairytales, Whimsy, and Wonder (https://a.co/d/8Z1Igqu), the stars also offer inspiration for an artistic deadline, this time, a writing assignment.
Though Honora missed the stars, the lights of the city at night made up for it. She loved the contrast between the workaday gray of Manhattan and the magical, sparkling nights. The city, especially when viewed from afar, shone like a glittering firmament. A reversal of sorts, as if the starry night sky had been flipped to earth. She would never forget her first arrival, approaching the massive metropolis at night – entranced by the wide expanse of twinkly lights, a galaxy of stars that stretched as far as she could see.
Struggling to find an idea for her children’s writing class, Honora hits upon an idea.
What was that seedling trying to root in her story – something about the sky? The night sky. And how she missed it. Stars! She flooded with inspiration. And the fairytale, “Fallen Star” flows from her pen.
And So We Dream (https://a.co/d/0iM4uab) In another connection to the stars and the artist figure, the young dream-filled actress, Vita Vitale, also connects with the stars. In the beginning of the story, she and her older sister tell their younger sister about swimming in the lake at night.
“Did you guys go swimming—and not tell me?”
“We didn’t plan it,” said Anne. “After Diane’s we went out to the lake and . . .”
“In the dark?”
“Under the stars and a crescent moon,” said Vita. “A Pierrot moon, full of dreams. It was wondrous! Absolutely magical.”
Beth looked around the back seat to see if she was sitting on anything wet, then checked the floor. “Where are your swimsuits?” After a moment’s silence, she gasped. “You went skinny dipping?”
Anne shot Beth a warning glance in the rearview mirror. “Don’t you dare say anything about it at home.”
“I won’t. But I can’t believe it. Were there any boys there?” After no answer, she said, “You guys! Weren’t you embarrassed?”
“It was dark,” said Anne.
“Except for the glimmer on the water. It was like swimming through a thousand tiny stars.” Vita turned around to face them. “It was so beautiful…Like swimming in a fairy world.”
Later, far from her dreams, and weighed down by disappointment and a sense of failure, she taps into the beauty and magic of the night sky.
The warm summer night held the faint scents of grass and flowers. Vita inhaled deeply and filled her eyes with the inky sky aglitter with stars….Vita was alone. But didn’t feel at all lonely. This is what has been missing, she told herself. An infusion of beauty. And here it was. Right overhead. A fragrant summer night filled with shooting stars. Vita lay back and filled her eyes with the starscape….This is the counter to sadness, she thought. Beauty. Wonderment….She felt a profound sense of connection, and a reconnection to her dreams. It all came from the same deep place of beauty and love and yearning.
And a closing thought:
“The star-filled wonder of the night sky makes me magnificently small.” – Honora Gorman (from one of her many scraps of writing)
It’s easy to create the feeling of contentment that comes from coziness and simple pleasures. Fresh flowers, the scent of baking pervading your home, music softly playing in the background.
The colder weather — especially with the approach of Christmastime — lends itself to creating such an atmosphere. It can start with using a favorite cup for your morning tea, or a piece of toast with jam, or the scent of coffee and a warm muffin.
I like to think that my Christmastime series captures, to some degree, the sense of pleasure and comfort: the scent of pine, a fire crackling in the fireplace, a radiator hissing and filling a cold apartment with warmth, the laughter of children.
Though the backdrop to the series is WWII and life on the home front is full of struggles and hardship, the overall tone of the series is uplifting and comforting.
Sad things happen, shocking events take place, but the characters roll up their sleeves and do their part to make the best of things. Love, family, friendship, and neighborliness are in the forefront and shape the stories.
Celebrating life — its holidays, the seasons, small day-to-day beauties, the quest for meaning — fill the pages of Christmastime.
So as the temperatures drop and the holidays approach, experience a sense of well-being for yourself. Fix a cozy hot drink, turn on a lamp or light a candle, and grab a warm blanket. Then nestle into your favorite reading chair and snuggle up with CHRISTMASTIME.
I recently came across a line (incorrectly attributed to Emerson?) that nevertheless caught my attention: She is rich who owns the day…
I love the sentiment and recognize the same spirit in my character of The Dreams of Youth, a very short collection of stories that tell the larger story of one woman.
These six interrelated pieces tell the story of Maggie, a vibrant individual who is also Everywoman: daughter, dreamer, nurse, friend, wife, mother. Spanning over eighty-five years, they follow her from her youth in Depression-era Illinois to the time when she ventures forth to 1940’s Hollywood and coastal California, and her return to the rural Midwest. Bittersweet and poignant, celebratory and inspiring, these stories portray the exuberance of youth, the delight of friendship, the adventure of going forth into the world, and the disappointment and heartache that are a part of life.
Maggie.
Always running, dreaming, adventurous, and daring.
Where others saw weeds, Maggie saw wishes.
Leafy treetops were enough to fuel her dreams.
And the dream of the ocean sustained her for a lifetime.
Linda Mahkovec - Author 