rainy day songs

There is, in my neighbor's yard and behind my house, a Magical Christmas Room. 

At least, I think that's what it is.

It's part of a large shed-like structure that is positioned directly against my backyard fence. And although it seems rarely occupied, when I take a peek through, there is fake snow, an army of Nutcrackers, holly wreaths on the wall, and soft furniture draped with cream-colored fabrics. Everything is clean and neatly arranged.

I often wonder what this room is for. I remember Narnia during the reign of the White Witch and how it was always winter but never Christmas. Is this room supposed to be some strange half-interpretation?

Then, this morning, I heard a strange caterwauling from somewhere nearby.

At first I thought it was Pandy. He's been sick lately and often groans on appropriate occasions (when he's hungry, or using the toilet).

But then I realized the sound was coming from behind my house, not inside it. I saw a shadow flit across the shed window. Someone was in the Christmas Room, and they were trying to sing!

.

.

.

You know how some women think they have beautiful voices, maybe even opera-singer voices, but they really don't? They warble on all the high notes and sing as loud as they can and always take the special treble part if there is one. No one has the heart to tell them they don't actually sound good because it would hurt their feelings too much. They love to sing and are emotionally invested in each trembly note.

This person was like that.

And I didn't have the heart to think they didn't sound good, because I could tell they were emotionally invested in every note of every song that escaped the glowy Christmas Room window.

But I did have the heart to sneak up through the drizzle and take a picture.

And next time, when I think Pandy is crying for help, I will check the backyard first.

xoxo to everyone, hope you're having a splendid weekend!

with love from Tabitha