traveling up and down the blind highway

It is Epiphany or the twelve night after Christmas. The creche scene is the first to be wrapped and packed for another year. The figures are six inches in height and hand painted by Aunt Joy for our first Christmas together. Given as a wedding gift from Aunt Joy and Uncle Bob. The small band of Mary, Joseph and baby Jesus have been added to in the last thirty five years. There are two cows to keep the baby warm. The Magi number has swelled to five after one of the men took a header off the mantle. A sow and her piglets have a home in this kosher stable. The sky above boards hold twinkling white rice lights. Angels adorn the night over the birthplace of Jesus. Every year, one or more of the angels fall to the earth their light extinguished. A small woods emerges from the corner to protect deer and squirrels. Among the oddities are a beaded girl made by John’s Mom. A wind up Catholic sister that emits sparks from her mouth as she walks. A large stuffed angel that hangs from a hook under the mantle because of her large size.
Of the several trees, one of bisque was given to john cousin Kennan. A light in the stable’s ceiling mimics the starlight glow. Shepherds herd sheep and goats to visit the Christ child. Many of the flock have lost an ear or horn over the years of small hands handling them . The stable itself was made by John, after the family sheltered in the trees.
The camel with a bell around his neck waits in a corner beyond the stable’s walls.
They all make their way to the birth of Our Savior.
They journey across the mantle to the Holy Family for Epiphany. Then it is dismantled, wrapped in tissue paper and lovingly packed away for another year. The memories of many Christmases are stored in that box. I smile to think that some day these gifts will pass to another for creating a new Christmas tradition.”O come, o come Emmanuel.
***. poem
God is with Us
Opening the box , unwrap the figures.
Light the sky with angels and twinkling lights.
Old friends are paired with new additions.
The mantle is crowded with visitors to the stable.
All surround the manger where the baby sleeps.
Memories of that first night mingle with the present.
Make room for Him.
God is with us.
carolaspot@aol.com copyrighted 1/5/2

As the year draws to a close, I think of the time we are given and how we choose to spend it. We can spend time, waste it, share it, give to another, lose track of it and find time until time is up. There are ways that I can improve my use of time. By making time for others is never a waste of it. As humans, we are given a set time line to complete our lives. We may think we know our purpose and what we wish to accomplish. But God may have different plans. Instead of being angry, I remember that I am the clay not the potter. As Tom Monaghan, the co-owner of Domino’s Pizza, once said, “My purpose is to get to heaven and bring as many others with me along the way.” Seen in that light, accomplishments are not my own but given to me by God and others. I am grateful to all my friends and writers that have encouraged me along the way. As I progress down the path to the narrow gate, may I find it open and hear the words, “Well done, good and faithful servant”.
May we grow as we travel together for another year, God willing.
Blessings in 2026
Carol Farnsworth
***. poem Closure

 
Clouds hide the closure of another year.
Happy and sad,
failures and triumphs,
conflicts at home and abroad,
warming trends,
killing of innocence.
I grow weary of it.
But I still hope in the future.
To be kinder.
Sharing with strangers.
To be at peace with myself,
and nature.
I say farewell to the past.
Look forward to a fresh page.
Start the next chapter.

printed in December’s Spirit Fire Review 2025
carolaspot@aol.com copyright 12/29/255

As I put the last tags on gifts, I remember back to the excitement and mystery of this time of the year. As a youngster, my brothers and I served at midnight Mass as choir members or alter servers. The novelty of staying up well past midnight, walking through the quiet, calm of evening and coming home to have a breakfast at 2 in the morning, created special memories.
For most of my elementary school years, I donned Christmas green robes with a white scapula hanging across the shoulders and hanging down to the waist. The ends of the scapulas were closed in a point forming a small pocket. I would place a hankie inside. The robe had no other place to carry this needed item. We would precess down the center aisle to stand in front of the communion rail to sing carols before the Mass started. After our performance, we precessed up the side stairs to the choir loft where we had a birds eye view of the whole congregation, and Mass. Often, my three older brothers served at the Mass. My Mother would leave a short while before the church service ended to start our breakfast.
One of the dishes was Clam chowder, with small round crackers floating on the surface. Another was a wedge of quiche, made with cheese, mushrooms and bacon. Hot coco was the drink of choice for us children. I believe that my parents hoped that the late hour and a full stomach would keep us sleeping until the sun rose. My excitement woke me up early. I would go to see if Santa had arrived. My mother would allow me to take my Christmas sock back to my room. I could open it and play with any toys until the rest of the family awoke. I recall one year I received a magic baby bottle. It would be filled with a white liquid. When tipped to feed a doll, It would disappear. I fed my whole doll collection while I waited.
Morning found the family gathered in the living room, around the aluminum tree with Christmas records on the counsel. I don’t remember if we opened gifts before or after breakfast. I suspect that when we were young, we were too excited to eat. Later, we had a light breakfast first. My Mother’s coffeecake with individual rolls were topped with white icing and walnuts. The middle roll sported a candied cherry.
With seven family members, there was never enough room under the tree for all the gifts. Larger items could be hidden behind chairs, under the desk or near the fireplace.We opened one gift at a time with others watching. We were expected to pass the gift around for others approval. One year, I received several pairs of panties. Embarrassed, I quickly closed the box mumbling Thank you.
“Carol, show us your gift.” Dad inquired.
He grab the box, opening it to show all what I was hiding. Another year, My Mom got a professionally wrapped gift ,when opened she found a mink stole.
I remember receiving a life size baby doll that could be fed with a bottle. A diaper caught the liquid. The doll was a gift from Uncle Tom and Aunt Kathleen. The doll had luminous dark blue eyes and real eyelashes. Having just had eye surgery and lossing my lashes, I proceeded to pull out all the lashes so she would match me.
After breakfast and clean up, we would drive to Grandma Jenny and Grandpa Clifford’s home for a second Christmas celebration.
Smiling, I place a bow and tag on a small present of a finger puppet for a niece, hoping it will foster a new memory.***. poem
Never Too Old
You’re too old to hang a stockings,
put out cookies and milk for Santa.
Listen for reindeer bells.
I wonder if the magic is gone?
Opening my drawer, I find a long green and white sock.
I Place it hanging on a knob in the hall.
With little expectation, I slept dreamless.
Morning light finds a lumpy hose.
Inside, I find nuts, an orange and a candy cane in my sock,
That old baby bottle from ago.
Christmas magic!
carolaspot@aol.com
copyrighted 12/22/2025

Not all Christmases are joyous. In my life I had a sad holiday become a joy.
In November of 1990, I opened my front door to be given divorce papers served by a stranger. I closed the door and walked down the hall to knock on the spare room used as a shared office.
“Mick, what is this about?”
“Read it!”! Slamming the door in my face.
For the next month, I went to work, cleaned and cooked on automatic. A week before Christmas, Mick informed me that Gary, his older brother was coming to stay the week between Christmas and News Year’s’s. I knew that Gary drank and would become abusive when drunk. He had pushed on his ex-wife’s loose teeth, causing them to fall out. I didn’t want to be near the pair of them.
I called my brother Micheal, for advise.
“Get on a plane and fly here to stay over After Christmas until New Year’s.”
My brother Mike bought the round trip ticket. I packed for a week visit. I said goodbye as I walked out the front door.
I flew to Pittsburgh, then a small 12 passenger commuter to Bradford PA.
The plane circled the runway in a snow storm. The lights on the sides of the strip the only distinguishing marker where to land. Hitting the runway, a cloud of snow, rose, covering the plane.
My brother was waiting in the small terminal. We were the last flight scheduled to land that evening.
Mike grabbed my bag, after giving me a quick hug.
“I hope you’re hungry, Kathy has dinner cooking.”
After weeks of Mick be fed by his mother before I came home, It was a welcome change to be catered to.
My niece and three nephews danced around with excitement. Kathy’s Dad, was also visiting after the death of his wife two months before.
After dinner, Megan showed me her room.
“You can sleep in my bed”. ” I will bunk with my brothers.”
Too tired to unpack, I slipped under the down cover and was fast asleep in moments.
That week we played cards, cooked comfort food like chili and warm corn bread.
The house was on a hill. The back yard sloped downhill with the garage facing the street below. The yard was lighted with several gas lights making it easy to sled into the evening. A dozen saucer sleds were piled near the back door.
After dinner, we dressed in wool and down, to tackled the back hill. The yard sported several runs to try. The most used one was a quick straight run to the garage door. It had been used so much, The path was well worn and icy.
The Adults selected a side path, even working to form and smooth the new path.
We played as hard at the kids. When all were cold and wet, we exchanged our outdoor clothes in the basement and enjoyed a hot mug of chocolate with mini marshmallows melting on the top of the drink.
After the sadness of the month before, I felt renewed, hopeful and ready to tackle my future.
All too soon, the week was over. I left Pittsburgh with joy and hope for the future.
***. Poem
Begin Again
As weary as the old year, I gazed out the window at a cloudy future.
The dirty slush gave way to white cleansing snow.
It felt new.
I hurried with my saucer to race down the run.
Thoughts centered on keeping my seat on the sled.
As children cheered, years slipped away.
I was a child on my first sledding run of the day.
With a frosted nose and squinting eyes, I mastered the hill.
After a full day, I slept dreamless.
carolaspot@aol.com
copyrighted 12,15,25

Growing up the first week of December was devoted to helping my Mom write notes and preparing for Christmas Cards. After dinner dishes were washed and put away, Mom would open a box of Christmas cards, laying out pens, blank sheets of stationary, stamps and return address labels to work on cards. My job was to lick and stick the stamps and labels onto the envelopes. After a brief note was handwritten in a card, I would lick and seal the envelope closed. Self sealing stamps and envelopes were unheard of. Several flavors of adhesive could be tasted on my tongue, ranging from minty to glue. I had to get a drink of water to rid my month from the tastes. While I worked pasting the labels and stamps in place, my Mother would select a card for each family, with care. The Madonna and child for Catholics and a secular Santa or snowman for others. She would think for a minute to compose a note to sum up the year. She never used the same note twice. Each note was written with a careful script.
As a lefty, I was never able to master the calligraphy of Mom’s penmanship. I stayed the licker and sticker.
When a box of cards was completed, I would deposed the mail in the large carrier box located across the street. The box had a large hinged door to deposit groups of letters or small packages. The outside of the box had information for pick up time for that day’s mail. Initially, the mail was picked up twice a day. Later, the mail was retrieved on the carrier’s normal route.
Today, I have a large box at the curb, not like the letter size box on my childhood home. The carrier drives a postal vehicle . The Only time I see the carrier is if there is a package too large for the box.
The mail itself has changed. Cards with envelopes has been replaced by folded sheets of heavy weight paper. Postcards with a photo of a family dressed in Christmas garb are selected instead of ornamental greetings. A Christmas letter has replaced the handwritten Holiday note. Some have opted for a email , forgoing the mail altogether.
I still maintain a Christmas card list for the start of my mailing. I no longer write a note but have opted for a Christmas letter of family news from the past year.
I eagerly open each Christmas message and use my Meta A. I. glasses to have the card read to me and the picture described. Then, I hang each piece of Christmas mail on a length of ribbon as a part of the Christmas decor.
I await your Christmas mail, on this snowy winter day.

***. Poem
Candy cane an acrostic
C crooks
A all stripes
N nest in tree
D dangling
Y yummy treats

C children hurry seeking
A among the needles
N neatly hanging
E each child gathers their share
S sweet delights.
carolaspot@aol.com
copyrighted 12/8/25

After a festive Thanksgiving with brother Craig and his wife Karen, we are ready for the preparation activities for Christmas. On Friday, instead of shopping at the Black Friday sales, we ate some of the leftovers ,froze the rest and worked on the Christmas tree and the Manger scene. John hung the small multicolored lights around the four sides of the sunporch to outline the ceiling. Each ornament was unwrapped, examined for damage then a hook was attatched for the tree. I bought a new spruce that had shorter needles made from a rubbery material to help the hooks stay on the branches. The four foot tree had to be placed on a small table so I could reach the top branches.
Memory after memory was hung from the limbs. The glass green pickle with a red hat, the jeweled butterfly, a gift from John for our first Christmas and the clay greenery holder that Ruth made in kindergarten for a gift, all found a place on the tree.
The mantle with the figures that Aunt Joy painted and fired as a wedding gift were checked for damage the placed on on the fireplace mantle. This year, an eclectic mix of trees and animals were arranged to show many critters parading to see the baby Jesus. The number of animals reflect our outdoor display of two girl dolls feeding the lit deer with large ears of Indian corn. A bird feeder with two red cardinals that twinkle with a red glow graced the feeding tray. Three artificial trees form a backdrop for the outdoor scene. Each tree has garland and strings of beads to catch and reflect the lights.
When I was a child, This when Dad opened the mysterious opening in the hallway ceiling and wrestled the the large cardboard box down the ladder that contained the limbs for the aluminum tree. The limbs were packed in rows from the longest to the short toppers. Both Dad and Mom would place the pole and stand in the front picture window. Starting at the top each limb was inserted into the main stem with a hook end to keep it in place. Mom had a large number of silver and blue ornaments that she used to decorate the tree. Dad would check the large flood light with a rotating wheel of four colored panels. When turned on the panels of red, blue, yellow and green lit up the tree reflecting on the metal. No other lights could be used because the metal may cause a spark.
We were the only family to have such a modern tree. I suspect that my Grandpa Cliff had the tree at the family electric shop and couldn’t sell it. It became a part of our families Christmas decor.
A small manger was set on a side table with miniature figures. Brother Mike made the wooden building to hold the Holy Family. Next to the manger a white church that originally had a small light to highlight the stained glass church windows. The church had a music box that played , “O Come All Ye Faithful.”. I would to wind the church to hear the carol and sing along.
Dad attached an aluminum strip of lights to outline the front doorway. The large window was outlined with multi colored lights. The blue spruce and the front electrical light in the yard was outlined with lights.
A wreath on the door completed the decorating. Later, when the evergreen shrubs grew, they were festooned with multicolored lights as well.
With memories put aside, I will compose the Christmas letter to include in each Christmas card. The letter will include news from the past year with hopes for the new year. Keep that Holiday Spirit alive.
***. Poem
Bells
Bells, bells bells, can you hear the bells?
In the morn, they call to worship.
A fire bell rings at noon.
The tinkling of the wind chimes plays a wind tune.

Bells, bells bells, can you hear the bells?
The ringing of the school bell even on a break.
The back up warning on a car.
Without hearing them, we can not go far. Bells, bells, bells, listen for the bells. backup warning from a car.
Carolaspot@aol.com
copyright 12-1-25

This year, our Thanksgiving table will be short of people, but full of memories.
My first memory of a gathering was at my Mother’s family.With four sisters and two brothers, it was quite a gathering. It usually occurred on the Sunday before Thanksgiving. My family gathered at my Mother’s parents along with aunts, uncles and many cousins to share grace, passed dishes and carry on several conversations at one time. The laden table stretched from the china cabinet in the dining room through the doorway and spilling into the living room. Several sized tables were cobbled together to form a large eating area. We sat in family clusters with adults keeping tabs on toddlers and babies. Grandma Cathrine and Grandpa Al presided at the table’s ends. Grandma near the kitchen to bring and distribute warm entrees. Before the meal, each adult and child was expected to verbalize what they were grateful for. When it was my two year old brother’s turn, he stated he was grateful that the prayer was over. Card games, conversation and coffee completed the evening. Sleeping children were carried to cars for the trip home.
The Thanksgiving meal at my Dad’s parents was much smaller. It included two aunts and one uncle along with my family and Grandma Jenny and Grandpa Clifford. There I had my first taste of mince meat pie. My brother Craig, told me that the pie was made from mice, but I tried it anyways. I learned not to trust my brother when it came to food.
If the Detroit Lions were playing and the game was close, all the men and my brothers took their plates to the living room to watch the end of the game. Both families played a running background of parades and football games. Grandma Jenny, my aunts and myself cleared the table and started to wash the dishes. I was left to find my own entertainment. There was a box of toys in the front closet for us to play with. The box held tinker toys, Lincoln logs and a tin holder for marbles for Chinese checkers. We were expected to play quietly while the adults conversed.
One year, my Mother volunteered to host Thanksgiving. Aunt Pearl donated a goose that she had been given. I remember the goose was greasy and not flavorful. That was the first year we had had macaroni and cheese . It is still served in memory of that first and only goose meal.
This year most of the cousins are celebrating with their in laws or close friends. I have found that my brothers are babysitting dogs, hunting or making phone calls to family members. On Face call or videos, another layer of memories are added to the family foundation.
John and I wish you a Blessed Holiday filled with memories.
*** Poem Passings
It seems like yesterday,
I was sitting at the kids table.
Reaching for another large olive and slippery Jack pickle.
Dessert was whipped cream covered, usually a wedge of pie.
We drank sparkling juice or Vernors pop.
Bowls of salty nuts and mints offered treats before.the meal.
With heads bowed, grace was recited.
A loud amen signaled the great tuck in.
We all took a walk before coffee and dessert.
Now, we skip the big meal
Going straight for dessert and coffee.
Smiling, we remember and we are grateful for the memories.
carolaspot@aol.com
copyrighted November 25, 2025

This week, while many are preparing for a large Thanksgiving gathering, John and I are climbing into the crawl space to pull out the Christmas decorations. We will inspect items for broken dolls, burnt out colored lights and age wear and tear on the artificial trees.
My next task is to think of a theme for the outdoor display. We have had a different theme for 29 years.
some of the displays have included bringing a tree on a sled, A 6 foot lighthouse with cross country skiers and an ice rink. Porch displays included the interior of a classroom, a Thanksgiving feast, cookie making and a visit to Santa with a working fireplace.
Many displays are tacky if seen up close, but seen from the road, they are enjoyed by neighbors and friends alike.
So my job, for now is to create a different scene for 2025. Any ideas?
Poem
Recycling Ideas
Year after year, items are pulled from boxes and tubs.
To be inspected, tested and placed in silent tableaus.
Dolls are dressed for church or bed.
Stars and twinkling lights are hung from rafters.
Plastic has grown white with light exposure.
Trees show needle loss,
I wonder how many themes I can make?
Maybe I will wait to see if there will be snow,
to add to the mix.
After all,
I have until after Thanksgiving…
carolaspot@aol.com
copyrighted 11/17/25

The Great Lakes in general and Lake superior specifically, has spawned many mysteries and intrigue. The anniversary of the sinking of the largest iron ore freighter to work the Great Lakes shipping routes. It started it’s career on June 8th 1958 with many of the original crew on board at it’s demise in 1975.
The cause of the sudden quick loss of the large ship still is froth with mystery, but one theory after studying weather maps and satellite imaging from the time , date and location revealed two storm systems, one from the east coast and the other from Canada, converging in Lake Superior, near Whitefish Point as the Edmond Fitzgerald attempted to cross White Fish Bay, in sight of land. The crew and the ship were lost. Below is a fictitious account from the Ship’s cat, Jenny.
I am Jenny the ships cat and mascot of the Edmond Fitzgerald, the largest and fastest carrier on the Great Lakes. One of my duties, to keep the crew’s morale up while hunting for mice stowaways. Coming awake from my afternoon nap, I started my evening patrol. In the hull with a fat mouse in my teeth, I climbed the steps to the main living quarters, where my kittens were secure safe, behind the large cook stove. The two kittens, named biscuit and gravy, named for their coloring. One, sported several shades of browns. The other was a off white with specks of brown through out her fur. I fed and cleaned the kittens. Full of milk, they were soon asleep. Time for my shift.
First, I checked the bridge to find the captain busy reading charts and checking the radar. I rubbed against his ankle, he smiled as he scratched under my chin before returning to his work.
Other crew were taking readings of various pieces of equipment and were too busy for me.
I decided to go topside to assess the conditions. Snow and icy spray covered the deck. On the port side, the Whitefish Light house could be dimly seen through the gusting wind and pelting hail. I glanced to my left to see a large wave hurdling towards my ship.
Turning to retrieve my kittens, I was thrown to the starboard side. I noted with growing alarm, the groans and scraping of metal torn by the storm. The ship was breaking apart.
In the frothing waters, I could see an outline of a lifeboat. Though I feared water, I made a quick decision.
With all four claws open, I leaped from the sinking ship for the lifeboat and safety.

The Mighty Fitz

She was a grand lady.
Graceful, largest on the lake.
hatches, loosened in the storm cause water weight to form.
In less than ten minutes,
the Mighty Fitz was no more.
carolaspot@aol.com
Copyright 11/10/25

This is a list poem from the Carousel poetry group. It is an abecedarian poem. I started each line with a capital letter but no ending punctuation. Happy Fall.
Carol

Falling Leaves
by Carol Farnsworth
Aspen quake.
Birch blending
Cypress canopy,
Dangling dogwood.
Elderberries eaten.
Feverfew fronds
Gilded gourds
Hemlock rosy tips
Multi colored kale
Yellow linden foliage
Maple orange leaves
Nesting yellow nettles
Bronze oaks
Quaking lemon poplars
Rosie Sumac
Smokey tamarack
uveria vella coco seeds
Virginia creeper fiery
Willow holds leaves
Xylosma bus holly
Yucca creamy turns rose
Zinnias slow to be dormant
completing fall’s wardrobe.

carolaspot@aol.com

copyright 11-3-25