Tag Archives: Christmas


It is cold this Tuesday morning ( – 3.5°C 25°F) on the window sill at the moment (9:30 am). As the snow is not thick and it has slightly melted, and the lane is a real ice rink. I feed “the birds of the air”. Seeds on the windowsill and the “fat balls” suspended under the lime tree. In memory of Frimousse, to whom sparrows gave numerous moments of happiness. They are cold and Frimousse would say: “They would be much more comfortable inside my stomach”
Frimousse’s Mistress has started putting Christmas decorations. As far as the Chrismas tree is concerned, RouXy’s Master says we have to wait until December 20th to cut it this year – a master in the science of trees, he cuts according to the moon. Frimousse’s Mistress is getting ingredients ready to bake Christmas biscuits. She cannot rely on RouXy to help her this year …
She went skiing on Sunday. She hopes the snow won’t melt. If there is no snow, she can go running! I bought her shoes of another make, which seem to be better for her ankles – you can see that I run by proxy … This morning her ankle is a bit sore. Skiing doesn’t seem to be a good thing, in spite of what her doctor says…





Fir tree

The small fir tree near the mailbox will be our Christmas tree this year.
It was Frimousse’s fir tree. It was in a small pot in the garden of our previous house – it was approximately 30cm (12in) high at the time. We brought it with us here, together with Frimousse, nearly sixteen years ago. It grew, we had to put it into a large pot, and then into a half-barrel. Frimousse liked to lie in the shade in the summer. He also liked hiding below to watch for birds. He would not be pleased to see his tree cut, if he was still here and alive. But the small fir tree is growing faster now because it has managed to shoot roots into the ground through the wooden bottom of the barrel. It is not possible to have a 15m (50ft) high tree at this place – and of course impossible to move it with its roots deep in the soil. No Christmas decoration on the fir tree this winter. Sad.
In the same vein, the lime tree will soon be pruned. Frimousse’s Mistress thinks it is too bushy.
Life goes on. Even without Frimousse.