Jack of Harts

Tis the season for Minnesotans to ask each other if it’s warm enough out there. Tis the season to decorate our houses with lights and wreaths. To cut down trees and light them up. Some of us shovel snow now. Some of us tell tales of flying reindeer and fat guys in red suits. It’s time to celebrate the beginning of winter. Or mourn it. Time to memorialize the dying year and watch a new one born to the sight of a falling ball of light and fireworks. It’s time to be thankful we survived the last year. Mostly. Maybe barely. Tis the season to make promises about how we’ll live the next year that we’ll probably forget. And tis the season to thank God for coming on down and spending a spell of time with us.