The metal deer reminded me of long-lost Siberian mastodons, partially buried in the ice, their white wire ‘bones’ finally being exposed by the sun. They lay this way and that, entombed in an icy prison that left their little Christmas lights dangling like icicles.

Lacking patience and archeological tools, I didn’t see the point in trying to exhume them.

Since the snow and ice were still in force early this week, the chance of getting everything out in time for Christmas doesn’t look good; but it’s not impossible either.

The giant plastic candy canes and fake pine roping also still wait patiently in their places, right beside the icicle lights. The real icicles have formed, as I joked about earlier, and are sparkling quite nicely in the dim glow of the porch light.

Since I am having trouble standing, I don’t see me getting up on a ladder outside any time soon. I had planned on clearing some of the pine needles out of the gutters at the same time, but there’s most likely a few inches of ice in there now. It would take a torch to thaw it out.

No, I’ll just learn to be happy with the decorations I have now, which nearly fill the inside of the house. It may not look like Christmas in the yard, but in the living room, there’s no question.

I visited with my parents on Sunday and spent some time there. After talking with a few people about Christmas wishes, my father shared his, which was to be able to stay out of the hospital through the holidays. It sort of made all the other lists look insignificant by comparison. I believe he will receive his gift, but our belief is really all we have most of the time.

They haven’t decorated this year, either. Mainly because my mother has decided that the Christmas holiday is simply an excuse created by an unknown entity to cause chaos and anarchy in her otherwise orderly home. She noted, quite pessimistically, I thought, that it seemed pointless to decorate with Dad in and out of the hospital like he has been. Bah-humbug. Of course, he’s been in and out of there since July and they didn’t stop having the lawn mowed, even though I’m sure the expense was inconvenient.

“Trees are messy,” she told me a few years ago. So, she switched to artificial trees. Plastic trees with plastic lights, all in a neat little package. “They’re too much trouble to put up and take down,” she said earlier this year of even that effort. She instead opted to sell the Christmas ornamentation, much of which somehow ended up at my house. The decorations have found their way into nearly every room, from the glowing-nosed reindeer to the singing Santa, from the table centerpiece to the miniature manger display.

Oh and the lights. There are lights everywhere: a well-lighted tree, a garland by the window, a small church with lighted windows and even a lighted wreath on the door. I can’t wait to see the electric bill next month. I’m already paying more than $100 per month on average, with little difference apparent between the seasons. I bet I’ll know a difference after the Christmas season.

I tried to tell my mother that it just doesn’t look right to have a Christmas with no trees and no presents. It’s almost like going to another country. Welcome to Christmas time, Islamabad style.

So, as the outdoor decorations were left behind to fend for themselves in the arctic wasteland of my yard, I felt somewhat guilty. Most of the neighbors have their decorations out. Yes, and they probably sent Christmas cards before Monday, too.

As for the ice storm, Thursday I was able to get to work early, since most of what was on the ground then was sleet and snow. The freezing rain, which followed soon afterwards, was the real problem. By Thursday night, no one was traveling out of my house.

I had, with some forethought, already stored enough firewood for at least two days on the porch and in the house. Little did I know that there would be enough ice around a week later to keep trips to the wood pile interesting.

So far, I’ve only fallen twice. The first was on Friday as I walked around the truck and felt my foot fly out from under me with the greatest of ease. It was almost like the classic banana peel skit, where the fellow throws one leg high in the air before falling, quite unceremoniously, backwards. The jar of the ice on my back was enough to nearly take my wind away.

Even so, my first reaction wasn’t for my health, but my pride. I quickly glanced around to see if anyone had seen me fall. Seeing no one, I lay there for a moment and admired the blue winter sky and took an inventory of necessary body parts. Legs? They seem fine. Arms? OK. Back? Ouch.

The second fall came on the small hill leading up to my now empty wood stack near the house, which I had partially covered with a tarp to keep the wood free of snow and ice. I stepped on the edge of the tarp and slid down to a sitting position with my arms full of firewood. Since then, I have been perfecting my penguin walk, which has kept me safe thus far, despite a few close calls.

The road leading up from the house was just starting to get clear enough for cars on Monday, with the top of the driveway remaining fairly exciting. Luckily, the old truck’s four-wheel-drive is still working well.

I did manage to accomplish a few things this week, like finishing up the new rail around the stove that was designed to keep children from getting burned. The hall closet remains as the last thing that hasn’t been done. Since I’m not sure whether or not I will install a central air unit, I might be better off leaving that job alone for at least a little while. The unit was given to me by my sister, who bought a bigger one. It sits alone in the back yard, begging for attention along with the other sundry items that landed back there and haven’t been moved since.

In the meantime, I think I will just concentrate on spending time with my family during this very special season of giving and joy (and ice). I hope you all are able to do the same.

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