Red stocking district

August sent out the memo: Wake up, Magic.(© image.)

Normally a portrait artist interviews the subject: sees what colors charm them – what jewels shine in their eyes – what swirls through their dreams.

This is not a year as ones before.

I am the family’s official Christmas Stocking elf person.

Those magic velvets that appear once a year hanging from mantels or stair banisters or doorknobs – in the spots chosen with the wisdom of a child’s understanding.

Those soft holders of childhood carefully packed and unpacked. Clutched and coveted.

Those made just for them – no other like it in the entire world. A few connecting elements among a family group, but each a stand alone, life’s anchor for Christmas past, present, and future.

Somehow the newest little one came skilled FaceTime personality performances.

A princess of mauve, not Pepto-Bismol pink. Elephants, not unicorns. One already kicking high and workin’ to fly.

One so nice to giggle and conspire with in person…if only.

Yes, you’ll have elegant, luxurious velvet since I had a hunch and, for once, grabbed a ready-made one at the end of last year – to hold just in case.

Who knew those final days out before COVID-19 would prove so valuable.

And yes, there will be matching white “fur”. Just enough leftover from the others. (Whew)

Amazon just delivered sew-on jewels – one bag faded and cheap; one bag just perfect. Who knew that going in person to a store to picky choose would ever seem like an unattainable luxury.

There’s always possible donation glitz from my Grandmother’s vintage hats. She, a jewelry maker and the original repurposer, would be tickled..

Although they may forget, I still tell them, “There’s always a little bit of family history sewn in here and there – all the way back to great – greats.” A bit of real Victorian vintage lace this time? Antique ornate buttons to adorn this tree?

Then, this little purple elephant your mom’s grandmother made for her. It’s pleased to have been released from that jungle in a drawer after being forgotten when your mom “put away childish things” and graduated to Legos. (Elephants, kindly, only remember the good times.) Maybe anchoring the design on the back. He can hoist a holly garland or a candy cane.

This will be the last one, I’m pretty sure. Time catches up with all.

The stitches aren’t as neat and even as before. I doubt anyone will notice.

Work now best done when there’s bright sunlight through the window. Work sessions are shorter. (OK. Outraged pet demands must be attended to. Ignore at your own risk.)

Not looking forward to getting sequined script letters spelling out the name just right. (If only paint pens could glide across that velvet nap…)

This is Elf Magic, though. To enchant and bridge across the years long after I am gone.

So until work is finished, there’s little time for anything else. (Sigh if only laundry and dishes would take care of themselves. I tried to whistle like Snow White, but to no avail…must be the double paned windows.)

RC Cat cheerfully offered to be a guest blogger, but the last time that was tried, there was that incident with a claw getting stuck in the keyboard. The yowling…

This stocking will be Christmas. Eventually.

Magic happens.

Phil, the Philosopher Mouse of the Hedge.

Related post: “Best job ever. August’s Christmas”

Christmas is waiting. Can’t disappoint. Reputation, you know. (© image)

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