Disclosed by a winter rose

Winter roses.I didn't plant it.

Nor did I feed, water, or prune it -- or, for that matter, pay any attention to it whatsoever.

I have ignored it in spring, summer, fall, and winter ... for years.

It's just there -- along with several others very much like it except for their current uncompromising dormancy -- growing amidst a bed of evergreen groundcover in my front yard.

It is a rose bush, and right now it is in bloom with a fully opened pure white flower, a little bud just unfurling its creamy petals and adorned with its delicate spiky collar, and an even tinier, tighter bud still secluded in its pointy green pod.

Dead oak leaves are trapped within its prickly infrastructure, impaled on needle-sharp thorns.

The temperature today struggled to get above 44 degrees Fahrenheit.

Less than two weeks remain before the Big Day.

As I snapped these photos, it began to rain, and soon after that, grainy gray light briefly preceded suburban December darkness.

Tonight the roses have no choice but to shiver in an inky-black 35-degree ambience punctuated by more cold rain.

For all their pale incongruity against the drab winter landscape, they appear fresh, relaxed, and secure. They are a delight and a privilege to behold.

I've made a dent in my shopping so shallow, it's not even worth mentioning. Less than two weeks remain before the Big Day. There's not enough money, and there are other pressures as well.

Many people are suffering, not nearly as fortunate as I.

But it's Christmastime, and there are roses.

Patient, beautiful, simple, elegant, trusting, undemanding roses.

At least for today.

Our twin towers

Twin towers of sweetness.I got the idea a few days ago to buy Christmas candy and fill these two tall squarish vases, making a tasty decoration sure to be appreciated by my family.

Plus which, I'm digging the patriotic overtones.

The vases were originally bought for our daughter's wedding in 2001, which sort of had a squarish theme.

Stephanie's engagement diamond is a square (princess) cut. Her invitations were large vellum squares. Her tiara design contained squares.

Her wedding cake tiers were -- wait for it, why don't you, if only to humor me -- square.

She and Joel even spent part of their honeymoon at the Rittenhouse Hotel on Philadelphia's Rittenhouse Square.

I could go on and on.

The vases were part of the reception decor. Although extremely inexpensive (think dollar store kitsch), they sparkled beguilingly in candlelight.

Use what you have.

Now, years later, they've been hauled off the back of a dark storage shelf and polished to a brilliant shine in the damp soapy recesses of our dishwasher.

One holds Pearson's Mint Patties and the other holds Hershey's Almond Kisses ... all wrapped in Christmas red and green.

My twin candy towers remind me that life is as sweet as it is brief, and that Christmas is a beautifully shining time of year.

Also that I am lazy when it comes to cleaning and decorating.

Be that as it may, it's not a time to be sad and wistful for all we've lost, but to be happy and grateful for all we've got.

They also remind me of a fine piece of advice my mother once gave me regarding homemaking and decorating: "Use what you have."

I think the leftover wedding reception vases are happy to be glistening on a coffee table beside the twinkling tree and filled with Christmas goodies.

After all, it's so much better to be useful than to be forgotten.

They may remain and be filled with Valentine hearts after the full tide of festive Christmas decorations has inevitably ebbed. That would be lovely; don't you agree?

Merry Christmas!

Happy Birthday, Annie

She wrote my name!She's leggy, blond, and a teensy bit scary.  She's possessed of a razor-sharp intellect, an acerbic wit, and a fearless patriot spirit -- the collective force of which leaves most people gasping.

Especially liberals.

Every book she writes is an instant bestseller.  She never fails to make an impression no matter what the occasion, medium, adversary, or cause.

Thank God for Ann Coulter.  If we didn't have her, we'd have to make her up ... and I'm not sure that would be so easy.

I had the privilege of hearing Ann speak in person last October. She was kind enough to sign my copy of Treason afterwards -- a singularly happy moment for me.

On December 8th Ann turned 48.  I hope it was a very enjoyable day for her, and that she'll have libs foaming at the mouth for many years to come.

She's a certifiable brainiac. Long may she wave.

If you're not in the habit of reading Ann's weekly column, there's no time like the present to begin. To help you find your way, here's a handy link.

But until you become a fan of Ann (or unless you don't), here are a few great Coulter quotes to tide you over:

Democrats couldn't care less if people in Indiana hate them. But if Europeans curl their lips, liberals can't look at themselves in the mirror.

If John Kerry had a dollar for every time he bragged about serving in Vietnam - oh wait, he does.

Liberal soccer moms are precisely as likely to receive anthrax in the mail as to develop a capacity for linear thinking.

Liberals are stalwart defenders of civil liberties - provided we're only talking about criminals.

We should invade their countries, kill their leaders and convert them to Christianity. We weren't punctilious about locating and punishing only Hitler and his top officers. We carpet-bombed German cities; we killed civilians. That's war. And this is war.

While the form of treachery varies slightly from case to case, liberals always manage to take the position that most undermines American security.

Yeah. She's a certifiable brainiac. God bless her and long may she wave.

A Very Dixie Thanksgiving

Antebellum Grandeur.When the wet white stuff on the ground is not snow but rain-soaked leftover cotton from the harvest, you know you're in Dixie.

When you barely need a sweater for the quasi-chilly early mornings and late evenings, but can go comfortably bare-armed throughout the rest of the day even though it's nearly Christmas, you know you're in Dixie.

When there's a turkey in the oven and cranberry sauce on the table and yet flowers are blooming riotously everywhere you look, you know you're in Dixie.

And "charming" doesn't even begin to describe it.

This year we gathered for Thanksgiving at the beautiful Civil War-era house shared by our nephew, Dan, his lovely wife, Chelsey, and their four children.

One dog and four cats round out the gang. The puppy's name is Jenna but I didn't catch any of the (two indoor and two outdoor) cats' names. I just know that they seem to be everywhere at once. And that they're quick. And constantly tormented by kids.

We can only be said to be alive in those moments when our hearts are conscious of our treasures.

We were enjoying perfect weather in South Carolina last week, which added to the treat of spending the holiday in Hartsville, a mere 80-minute drive from our home in Columbia.

The drive included a swing by Pearl Fryar's place to take a quick peek at his astounding topiary gardens. If you've never seen or heard of Pearl, you should click here and consider buying the DVD A Man Named Pearl.

You won't believe your eyes.

We almost couldn't believe ours when we first saw the antebellum manse recently acquired by our nephew's family. The one-story house sits on four acres surrounded by cotton fields, grape arbors, and more mature camellia bushes than I would have thought existed in all of Darlington County.

TG's parents were there from Ohio. Also present were TG's only brother and our sister-in-law, who live in the south ... of Michigan. Two of their four children, two daughters-in-law, and six of their fourteen grandchildren were there too. Three of our four kids were with us, and our son-in-law, and both of our granddaughters.

Thornton Wilder believed that we can only be said to be alive in those moments when our hearts are conscious of our treasures.

As you can see from the pictures, our hearts were conscious of (and grateful for) our treasures on Thanksgiving. It was the kind of day when you hear posterity calling, and it knows you by name. It was a delightful, never-to-be-forgotten day in Dixie.

Family members may click here to see the entire album and purchase prints.