Our first married Christmas! (Which means we got together-things such as a microwave, instead of my usual socks) Christine and I drove down to the farm on Christmas Eve for our usual Christmas on MacDonald’s Grove Road, in our small corner of eastern Ontario. This is what my sister’s many children looked like [l-r: Rory (6), Duncan (4) and Emma (9)] with their hands over their faces. Later on, Emma (who had her birthday but a week or so ago) and I walked from their house [this is her, below, with her house in the background] to the homestead to help my father with a larger gift.
Emma even took a picture with me, with the old homestead (and Maxville in the distance) behind (wearing my ottawa international writers festival toque, of course):
We enjoyed our big meal in the afternoon before I headed back into Ottawa to pick my lovely daughter up from work. Once Kate was back out with us, we dove into presents (as children do). Although by that time, my terrible camera rebelled against the darkness of the house, and refused to allow most of my photographic attempts. Emma and Rory were good enough to show how good they looked in the masks we picked up for them on our honeymoon, at one of the 10,000 gift stores in the Louvre:
On Christmas morning, we lounged for a bit on the homestead in front of Christmassy-television with my father, before heading out to the car (below) to return Kate home and pick up Lemonade, our errant cat and head into Toronto to visit Christine’s mother and brother and his fiancé. Oh, for the days when these visits weren't so brief!