Dear friends,

As you know, this has been a tough holiday season for me. ’Nough said. I didn’t get around to sending out cards, even though they were sitting on the computer desk not far from the mouse. I just stared at them, paid a few bills, and did something else of no import.

The boxes of holiday glitter and wonder remain in the basement, as there is no sweet-smelling tree to hang them on. Somehow, it just didn’t seem right to drive to Beth’s Farm Market, tie a tree to the rack on the roof of the black SUV, bring it home and, well, you know the rest.

On a basement shelf, carefully wrapped in plastic, live a quartet of ceramic trees, each sporting dozens of twinkling lights. Something prodded me to get them down, dust them off, and set them up. They looked nice.

But it didn’t seem to trigger the Christmas spirit.

And then, in a flash, appeared a Christmas miracle. Let me explain.

Friday, my brother Jason’s birthday, was, to put it mildly, a very blustery day. Mother Nature outdid herself. The Maine coast caught the tail end of a massive storm that worked across the nation, leaving behind piles of snow and fierce winds. It was a kind of day giving truth to the post advising Southerners to stay inside while Northerners should dig out their big winter coats.

The TV weather forecasters predicted Mother N would send us rain and winds – 60 to 70 mph winds – that would knock out our electrical power and send Central Maine Power and its electrical crews into disaster mode. They were right.

Weather forecasting world also mentioned it was the winter solstice, and that meant we would see the highest tides of the year. Combining high tides with 60 to 70 mph winds out of the Southeast meant a chance for a lot of coastal flooding. Again, they were right.

Go to the Boothbay Register website and check out some of the pics of the huge waves. As predicted, the winds took out my power from 6:10 a.m. until late afternoon. By the time I had cooked dinner, reset all the clocks, and reprogrammed the TV set that is way, way smarter than me, it was time to hit the sack.
As usual, my internal alarm clock went off at about 5:30 am and I noticed the little green light on the smoke detector was dark. So was the red light on the telephone.

The power was off again, so I pulled the covers over my tush and snuggled in for a nap. It lasted for half an hour when, once again, Mother Nature suggested it was time to get up.

Those who are at, or past, the social security withdrawal date will understand the last sentence.

So, without help from warm electric lights, I made the bed, brushed my teeth, pulled on jeans and a warm sweater, and found my way downstairs.
The propane-powered kitchen cooktop is usually light with electric igniters, but in a pinch, you can use a match to heat the tea kettle. Next on my early morning to-do list is to pull the coffee beans and grinder out of the cupboard.

As I stood at the counter in the dark, staring at the coffee grinder, it suddenly occurred to me that it would not grind the beans without electrical power. Rats. Double rats.

If the 2022 holiday blues were not enough, the thought of spending Christmas Eve morning alone in the dark – with no cup of hot, steaming coffee was unthinkable.

Suddenly, as I held the grinder in my right hand, a miracle happened. The power returned. In a flash, beans appeared in the grinder, abuzz went the blades, and the fine ground brown goodies nestled into the brown paper filter just as the tea kettle whistled.

Yes, a miracle. Power on (thanks to CMP crews).

In the few minutes it took to brew the coffee I found myself smiling. So I clicked on the ceramic tree lights and reached for the radio where the NPR classic music station soon filled the downstairs with sounds of Christmas carols accompanied by symphonies and strings, brass quartets and quintets, and even acapella ensembles.

Now, it was time to click on the propane fireplace stove, sit in a comfy wing chair, cradle the warm cup of coffee, stare at the ceramic trees and enjoy the newfound Christmas spirit.

The Good Book tells us of miracles that split the Red Sea and raised the dead. But at my house, as the winter winds howled, a tiny Christmas miracle occurred when CMP and Co. made the coffee grinder turn into a fresh hot cup of coffee that was enough to raise my spirits and wipe the old man frown from my mug.

Merry Christmas to all, and to all, a good night.