Ups and Downs of Holidays

I love holidays, always have.  I decorate my home for holidays, at least most of them.  I think of foods appropriate for the special day.  I grew up in a household where this was an addition to the normalcy of life.  My mother's philosophy was to have as many days to celebrate as possible.   She advised me not to get married or engaged on a normal holiday, to arrange those occasions so that there was one more day to celebrate out of the yearly 365.

Think about it, most holidays have foods that go along.  For those extra ones that are your family tradition  alone you can always dream up some delectable item for the day.  And who doesn't appreciate good food, especially if it is for some special reason?   So, is it the food or the reason that makes it a holiday?   Who cares!

Family games and activities go along with the holiday.  It doesn't matter whether it is a game of Mah-Jong, or a baseball game, ping pong, or Monopoly.  The spirit of fun and being together is what is needed.  The competitive spirit is great, up to a certain point, but it can get beyond reasonable boundaries and cause feelings.  Wish that weren't the case, but reality knows it is.

The down side of holidays is that they involve more work attached to our daily chores.  The decorating, putting it out, taking it down, finding a place to store it until a year later when the holiday bug bites again for that season, or reason.  The food preparation, making the effort to make it more festive, finding just the right thing to appeal to those enjoying.  And, of course, after the preparation, the cooking, and the eating, comes the ever present cleaning up.

There may be extra cleaning to go with a holiday.  Pumpkin carving isn't known for tidiness.Halloween is one that may carry extra cleanup as the treats get carried throughout the house and are hidden under couch cushions, etc.  You know how kids are. If you have a live tree at Christmas there is the taking care of the tree, keeping it alive so you can enjoy the pine scent---but after the season getting it out of the house with a trail of dry pine needles stuck in the carpet.  No fun.  Dying Easter eggs---slopping the dye, breaking the eggs.  I am sure you can think of others.  How about getting burned by the firecrackers on the fourth of July?
A definite downer!

If there are guests for any holiday....well, there is extra everything when there are guests.  General cleaning,  more laundry,  more food prep.... on and on.  And of course there is always risk with us humans, we don't all get along.  I have been in the middle of a holiday and had individuals end up in fist fights, or even worse, jail.

One must always ask oneself, is it worth it?   For me, I have found that it is.  The stress is present, but it is for a limited time that is recognized before, knowing there will be an end soon.  I have to remind myself of that from time to time when I am in the middle of a big holiday celebration.  "This too, shall pass,"   "hang in there"  "keep my mouth shut."  Faults and tempers need to be overlooked, controlled.  Nerves get frayed.

 Regardless of the human frailties I maintain that holidays are good. It is the good memories, the caring for each other, that can come during these special times  that make them of value.  Call if bonding if you like, it is something that people need.  Even those who resist it and complain about it, need it.  Holidays can be one means establishing this.  Yep, I still love holidays, ups and downs included.  Do you?  I hope you had a good Thanksgiving and are looking forward to December, then January, then February, March, April, May...and aall those possible holidays with those you care about.

Living with Wildlife

This past week one of our local citizens hit a deer not too far down the highway from our home.  It was near ten  o'clock at night, plenty dark, and up she comes out of lower field, smack into the vehicle.  There is very little warning when these things occur.  Yes, it was a fatality! Of course it was taken care of, according to the laws, etc, by the proper authorities.  The dented car, that is something the driver must handle.  This is a frequent occurrence for those who live next door to deer and other wildlife. It is ingrained into driving habits to watch for deer, racoons, skunks, pheasants, even elk. 

We recently had an article in our local paper warning motorists that the "deer are now down from the mountains."   Obviously the writer doesn't live in local deer country.  The deer haven't been "up" in the mountains.  Up in the mountains there are cougars and wolves that consider venison a good part of their weekly menu.   These critters are protected by laws.  Some of our residents who live up on the mountainsides have found they can't keep  outdoor cats to combat mice because the cougars wipe out the cat population. The deer have gotten so that they stay close to human habitat, it is a form of protection, better to take their chances crossing the highways than being brought down by their natural predators.  There are coyotes down here, but they must not be  quite as threatening.

The deer have discovered that,contrary to the wildlife experts, they can eat hay, green or dry.  Our orchards offer fruit, on the ground and as far up as their necks will reach, apples, pears.   During the winter they also have the plus of salt that builds up next to those highways, used to clear the road of ice and snow.  Salt is a good thing, and this is an easy source.

I love living among the wildlife, but it has its challenges.  Just let's get the real picture of how it is.  It is fun to see a deer reaching up to pluck an apple off your tree, but only if there are lots of apples.  It isn't fun when they eat all your strawberries, tomatoes,  whatever they develop a taste for.  It is always necessary to "watch out for the deer" when driving, day or night, no matter what season it is. Sometimes watching out isn't enough! We share the homeland, all year round.

Color in My Life

At this time of year our part of the world is aware of the colors of nature, perhaps more than at any other time.  Fall is the vibrant season in this area.  The greens of spring are welcomed, but it is a different sort of feeling gendered.  The colors of fall are like the fireworks announcing the coming of a more restful season, at least in color, winter.

Today some friends were visiting and we were talking about the beautiful place in which we live.  Yes, it is picture postcard lovely nearly 365 days a year.  We have mountains, streams, wildlife, a certain amount of privacy.  No, I am not trying to put out an ad to attract anyone, it is just a great place to be in the environmental sense.

All this made me think of how much color has always been a major thing in my way of thinking.   Many of my memories are connected to color.  I remember the color of an aunt's wedding outfit that I saw when I was seven, and I include the groom's military uniform.  My cousin, on the other hand, remembers the party following.  I had pneumonia,  very high fever, when I was 5 and my delirium dreams were (nutty of course) but in a color.  Always after that experience I knew when I was sick because my dreaming would be in that color.

When I meet someone, for years following that introduction,  I associate the color of the person's clothes worn at that time with who they are.   To me they are the person "in the yellow flowered skirt" along with their name.

I had surgery on an eye a few years ago, the kind where the recovery requires you to keep your face down, parallel to the floor for the next two weeks, 24/7.   During that uncomfortable time something that fascinated me were the colors I saw as my eye healed, and how they changed in shaped and intensity.  It caused me to wonder if Van Gogh and Picasso might have had vision problems that caused them to paint in their particular styles that were so different from their peers.

Anyway,  I have wondered about other people's experiences with color.  Am I weird, well, maybe that is the wrong question.   Do any of you who read this see things this way, with color always a part of the mental connection?  I love color,  it gives so much to my life,  indoors, outdoors, moving, stable, no matter where or when.  What a wonderful  gift God gave us, when He created the world in technicolor!   For me, while I think I could manage black and white, it wouldn't be nearly so interesting.

Weeding rewards

  Yesterday we had a good soaking rain, most of the day.  It made the  perfect situation for attacking the thistles and noxious weeds that permeate my yard.  So, after canning apple-pie-in-a-bottle during the morning hours I donned my gloves, grabbed my wheeled garden stool, my root digger and headed out, pulling the wagon to serve as my trash collector.   We are not talking dandelions. I am after snarling, evil, menacing green stuff
   First was the garden area where there have been two tall thistles, firmly imbedded in my spearmint, along with a burdock that I fight yearly.  These thistles are a fairly recent variety to my yard, painfully barbed, with a sting that lasts and lasts.  I need to look in my noxious weed pamphlet to see what their name truly is.  What I call them is not fit for a blog!  They came out easily, provided I pulled from the base.  The burdock was more tenacious, as I knew it would be.  Roots are still there but I did manage to bust if off low down and toss it over the fence.  This plant and I are enemies from the past---it chose to grow just underneath the back wooden fence, backed up by a pile of oil drums.  I innocently placed my large, heavy containers just in front of that fence.  Thus, every year we have a struggle, even the Roundup treatment has been insufficient to totally discourage this weed of weeds!
    I love my good leather gloves.   When I first started into the art of weeding some 50 years past I bought myself a good pair of leather gloves, none of those flimsy gardening gloves for me.  The attitude is probably another evidence of my growing up years. There are lots of instances in my life as a farm wife where gloves that are worth something are needed!  Leather makes it possible for me to dislodge thistles, minus shovels, if the dirt is just right, and today it was.  Not only did I get those in my spearmint, but I went all around my yard fence ( we have a big yard) and also around the foundation of the house, and around the root of every tree in the yard.  It seemed that thistles of one description or another were trying their best to get a good start.
    Of course I didn't just pull the thorny variety.  I felt great when up came button/marshmallow weeds with their long roots, one after another. One root system was over a foot long!  Not all came zipping right out, my little digger had to help dislodge some roots after my yanking had broken off the greenery.  Either way I felt exultant!  Even those roots that refused to budge did not mar the hours spent. Weeding can be rewarding, not my favorite task, but one that is necessary.
      All thorny plants came up---Milk weed, Russian, Canadian, whatever their ethnicity. There are with some nice velvety leaves. I always wonder why these plants have such attractive flowers,  lavender, yellow, white, with glossy curling leaves, yet with such blackened hearts.
      Guess weeds are much like other things in life.   Enticing on the outside, tempting in beauty.  But if they can get their hooks into you, pain might be inflicted that lasts, and lasts, until we get someone to help pull out the barbs and make it better.

Border crossers

About a month ago I wrote thoughts about our mourning dove.  I have received new light on this subject, not sure about its authenticity.  Recently when we were enjoying the sounds of this dove  I made some off-hand comment about the call being a tad different from most of our mourning doves.  My husband responded that he had heard this might be a slightly different breed of dove---not one found in our North American Wildlife book that I use often for identifying such things.  He elaborated that south of the border, in Mexico, the doves there were over-populated and that their call was a little different from those to which we were accustomed.
       I listened to this, noting that his expression was serious, knowledgeable, etc.  Inside my head, I was thinking that the birds are crossing the Rio Grande just as the citizens, for a better life.  I was also inwardly smiling.  Hmmm, maybe our dove just has a Spanish accent.  Hola or hello, works for me!  Still love to know the bird likes our neighborhood.

The Nesting Enemy

Most of my readers will have memories of the little song "Robin in a Cherry Tree, sing a little song for me"  or something similar.   A harbinger of spring, we always look forward to seeing the red breasted bird arrive.  He is so intent when pulling out worms, listening intently and never giving up, pulling, pulling until there teh earthworm dangles from his beak.  Or maybe only a portion of the worm, but no matter, the bird won the fight.  So cute and clever!
        My feelings about robins now are much different than in those unknowing days of singing.  Yes, I have robins in my cherry tree, and I intend to clear out the nest!  Again! I thought I had done this last fall, but this year I can see that they are very good at home restoration.
       These feathered thieves are worse than any camp robber jay.  We have three cherry trees in our orchard and it is very seldom we get to eat any of the cherries they produce.  The birds are gobbling the fruit before it has a chance to  fully ripen. I have even tried to pick early, but that doesn't work either. They consume the sour pie cherries just as rapidly.  I always hope their stomachs ache.  The pit is left on the tree, totally bare, stripped clean, still hanging from the stem attached to the tree.  A symbol I see each time I mow the lawn.
        Robins devour strawberries just as rapidly, maybe even faster.  They don't have to worry about the pit and who cares about a little green leaf in an aviary diet.   Yes, I have tried the covering with a net "prevention."  All that means is that the owner of the fruit has to clear out the bodies of the birds who get trapped beneath the net, stomachs full of the produce, and they can't get out.  Maybe they are too bottom heavy for takeoff!  I just know I have had my share of bird fatalities with nets.  It stinks, in more ways than one!
        We have gone through the cherry war for this current year. Now they have moved on to my ripening black currants.   My source of jam, jelly and rich purple syrup that is such a treat for the whole neighborhood!   I watched the birds fly from the nuded cherry tree to the currant bushes,  diving in, sweeping out.  So I commenced to mow the lawn in that area---no bird action.  I no more than turned off the machine and entered my kitchen to prepare a meal, turning to look through the patio doors into the backyard and the
creatures were back in action.
        I wish I could convince my mamma cat to sit by the currants.  That fiesty little lady would make a very good guard.  I have seen her in action with birds she has nabbed.  But she has business elsewhere and cats aren't much for guard duty.  I am having wishes for my BB gun of yore, or even a 22.
      In the meantime I pick whatever berries are ready, as fast as I can.  I know the enemy has the berry patch in its sights, in fact I just saw one sitting within 3 yards above me on a stack of oil cans behind the bushes.  Arrogant creature, not even needing the protection of the cherry leaves, just waiting for my departure! Smug features, greedy appetites intact!

Garden Progree---or Not

Pulling weeds this afternoon in the hot sunshine set my thinker in motion of past gardens.  We have lived here for 50 years.  It is easy to remember because I brought my first child home to this house. Our first mortgaged home.  She was born on May 29, 1963, so this makes a golden anniversary for our being on the farm. 

            I have had a garden of some sort most of those years.  I inherited some flowers when we bought the farm and tried to maintain them.  My mother-in-law helped me learn the world of weeding.  Which was a plant that was desirable, which went on the discard pile.  She was an expert gardener.  She had a green thumb extraordinaire,  no matter what  plants she worked with, gardens or indoors, beautiful.   Then she gets a daughter-in-law with black thumbs.

            No matter the color of the thumb, I have always enjoyed the effort.  I love being outside, digging around. I like the feel of the dirt, the smell.  I enjoy the scent it gives when it is freshly watered. Love the way tomato plants smell.  When I was a kid we always had a garden and in Wyoming growing seasons are short.  Short, but still fun.  My currant bushes, red and black are throwbacks to my past, as is my love of rhubarb.  Hardy plants, they had to be to survive from year to year.

            When we built the house we now live in I had a garden plot just over the fence on the west side of the house.  For a few years it did great, but I had a hard time keeping up with the weeding, etc.,  along with the house, chores, and 6 kids.  After awhile I had trouble with my root crops getting nematodes. I talked with the county extension agent to figure out what was going on and had never heard of nematodes until then.  Eventually even the radishes were full of those black trails and I gave it up. Imagine some little mite wanting a radish! I was throwing away a bigger portion of the produce than we were eating by the time I cut off the blackened spots and lines.

 I know I was still trying to maintain the patch when I started working full-time at school.  The fall harvest of garden, canning, freezing, etc., plus being a beginning teacher, overwhelmed me.  So I am guessing that garden spot served us for about thirteen years. It was a choice between vegetable garden and sanity.

            This week I picked my first cherry tomatoes and a cucumber from my container garden.  It felt nice and rewarding. At this stage of my life containers suit our needs in the vegetable garden department.  I have been trying it for several years now, experimenting as I go along.    We are empty nesters, retired, more or less.  Retired me, very tired husband!  Bob picked the first two tomatoes from his favorite plants just a few days ago. He brought them in as though they were trophies. Garden tomatoes are high on our list of favorite foods.

Last week I gleaned two handfuls of peas from the only 2 plants that grew---I had planted a whole package of peas—Little Marvels, I believe, two containers worth.  The two peas that grew did very well.  I think after trying peas for the last two years, they are not suited to my containers.  Remember this, brain, next spring!  The lettuce did very well, the spinach not so much.  Green beans getting a good start. I planted a whole container of nasturtiums---I have some leaves and plants, no flowers. I could eat the flowers, the leaves not so much.   My parents often had nasturtiums in their flowers. What am I not doing?  The carrots are doing well; I did two containers of them this year because last year I wished I had more than one.  We shall see.  At least I can keep up with the weeding and give the bugs a good fight.

             I do have some flowers this year, but that is for another telling.  There is also an orchard with its ups and downs.  Do you like to garden, successfully or otherwise?  Why?

Morning greeter

Each morning, sunny or grey, I hear the call of our resident mourning dove.  Generally it isn't hard to locate him.    He is the normal slate gray in color with the black spots, a longish tail feather.  Sizewise he is a bit on the plump side, which makes us think he is probably male. 
      Definitely not shy. This friendly bird will talk with my husband, who understand dove, answering the cooing call back and forth.  We hear him on all sides of our farm and often find him perched on the top of our big swing set in our back yard.  Another perch is the top of our loafing shed, across the highway that runs through our farm.  He has a little catch in his throat on occasion, so takes a breather and then repeats with more gusto.
        He calls off and on, all day long, until dark descends.  The next morning the coo-coo, coo, coo comes drifting into our open windows and helps me want to start the day.  I listen for him all through my day, indoors or out.  I hope he can feel how much he is appreciated.

Spring flowers, or maybe not

Spring slowly arrived in our country this year.  The days were cold and stormy, not encouraging to the human spirit nor to the earth waiting to burst into its annual blooming.  Finally the daffodils and narcissus poked up some green fingers.  Ah, spring is going to be here after all, I smile.  Where are my tulips?  Maybe  with the weather they are slower, wait and see.

Time passes and in a smaller bed of columbines there are tulips.   This means that all the red, yellow, orange, fringed are not coming.  They have been part of the voles diet for the winter. Miserable rodents!!  I should look at this from the scientific view and learn that bulbs from tulips must have a more delicious taste as compared to the daffodils and narcissus bulbs.  The grape hyacinth has only one straggler left, perhaps another bit on the vole menu.  I have found one tulip---a volunteer, unplanted---that valiantly pokes its green arms up each year, just a few feet northwest of the now bare-of-tulips area.  How did the crafty vole miss that one?

Voles are just another of the enemies of yards.  I see their paths here and there through out my greening grass, left as they have munched on the roots of the lawn grass.  In the dirt of the flower beds, no paths of course, but the evidence of their presence is very strong.  Now, some decisions, to put tulips there again for another year, or not?  In the meantime get planting something else that will brighten my soul and get my fingers in the dirt.  This is a very small adversity with which to deal.

Beautiful Natural Thieves

We have a thief that can cause us much grief.  No, I am not trying to be poetic.  This is a fact and a challenge not easily solved.  He visits in the daylight hours, on sunny days.  He is careful, checking for human presence if possible before he steals.

The thief is an eagle, monarch of the skies, a beautiful large aviator.  Male or female I know not, but I do know that his(perhaps her?) nest is not too far away.  His visits are too frequent to our neighborhood.  His visits take a toll, as is the case with all thieves. 

After flying high above our farm, he is always on the hunt. Lovely to behold if one did not know his intent.  His target its our fish pond and the lovely trout that inhabit those waters.  He can dive down, plummeting out of the sky, and sink his talons into the back of a fish as it nears the surface of the water.  Those hooks dig deep and the wiggling of the captured victim is in vain.  He  may fly away to eat at a more leisurely spot that where “man” may interrupt his dinner.  But he also may eat on the bank of the pond, if he is feeling undetected.  This is a picky eagle, he eats only the eyes and part of the fish’s head, discarding the flesh when he is sated.

One thing that this master of the skies does not like is bottle rockets that are launched to scare him away.  It is a temporary distraction and we know he will be back.  Three other fish ponds in the area are faced with the same problem.  The eagle is not our only thief with similar traits.  He is just the most recent one we have observed. Blue herons and sandhill cranes have a great hunger for trout. 

What can be done?   Here is a gorgeous bird that we all admire, our National Bird.  He has the protection of the government as being endangered.  He is above reproach.  He is a robber, taking expensive items much as any human thief would do, with no care for his victims.  This eagle has two victims, the fish and the man who owns the fish, who purchases the  expensive fish and feeds it.   In this case, both are helpless to prevent his assaults.

It is not so different from those ranchers and farmers whose animals are at the mercy of the wolf packs that have been invited back into the country where they once roamed free.  More protection, more victims. This seems an unsolvable problem when trying to uphold the laws of the nation.

Cold weather musings

I like living where there are four seasons.  There are times that nature seems to overlook spring and jumps from winter to summer.  On a rare year we may  have only a glimpse of fall before winter arrives after our summer.  The promise of change is good for my soul and knowing some of the wonderful things that come with each time of year is encouraging in so many ways. 

Snow brings such pristine beauty into my life and I enjoy it for that reason and others.  I like the brisk, crisp air, unless I have some respiratory disorder that causes pain when I breathe in the frigid air.    Icicles are constantly changing and when there is light on these formations it is like a splotlight on nature's crystal sculptures.  The light can be artificial or from the sun, the loveliness still exists.

I don't mind shoveling snow, in small amounts.  I am grateful that at our house we have a tractor to clear much of the walk and the driveway, the roads around our farm buildings.  Usually this extends to neighbor's homes as well.  The danger of slipping on the ice or having a solid chunk of ice from the roof drop onto an unsuspecting soul, maybe me,  that is getting harder to bear as my years go by.

Cold weather brings opportunities for fun that would be impossible without it.  I grew up skating on frozen ponds and rivers, sleigh riding, digging snow tunnels, enjoying a good snowball fight.  Didn't do much in the way of skiing, the places offering such were too far distant and expensive in my young life.  However all of my children enjoy that activity as does my spouse.  I like the fun side of winter, even when I have graduated to more of a spectator rather than participant.

This particular season, 2012-13, has brought a good winter, but it is getting a little long in the tooth.  I am ready for a change of pace. February can be a dreary month when one is bombarded with foggy days and continual gloom.  March, just the name signifies marching to warmer, green things, dirt.  As far as the work load, there will be an increase with outdoor chores.  Some of those precious reading times by a warm fire will dwindle.  Yep, think I am ready for March, even the mud that goes with it.  It has been a long, icy season and I am thinking seed catalogs, crocuses. about now.  How about you?

Winter Joys

        Last week on a cold winter night my husband and I returned home from watching a high school ballgame.  As we departed the car we noticed the prints of deer hooves right at the point of where our garage door drops down.  Some of our local deer, who have been eating our hay crop in the barn prior to our getting it sold and down the road, are now sampling the evergreen shrubs that grow on either side of our doorway. Cheeky things!  Is nothing safe?  But how nice that they are still around, minus the hay.  They have been cleaning up any scraps left in the barn from the clearing out of the hay bales.  The critters may come just as close to the house during warmer months but we don't see the tracks unless we have snow.

Another joy of winter months is the blooming of my Christmas cactus.  I inherited this lovely thing from my mother-in-law and I would guess that parts of it might be 50 years old.  She kept it on her dryer in her sun room, now it basks in front of my living room window.  When it arrived I moved it around a bit in our house trying to discover where it was most comfortable.  It took some doing but this window is a match, although the plant sticks out a mite and mars a perfect view of the TV from a certain chair.  The plant takes preference in my book.

Early this fall the plant got an involuntary pruning.  My one year old grandson knocked it off its perch and sent it crashing to the floor (carpeted, of course.)  One side broke off rather badly, down to the base.  Other sections flew.  The child was safe and that was the most important since it is a plant about the size of 3 basketballs in a large heavy clay pot.  The pot survived too. Blessings all around. I shook the plant back into place, more or less, added some new soil and wondered if it would want to bloom this winter season.  Then again it might decided all these years of beauty were too much effort and it was time to dry and wither.

It has gotten watered along with the rest of the houseplants, about once a week, maybe every 10 days or so because I suddenly recall that is a chore that needs tending.  December arrived, no buds forming.   I couldn't blame the plant after such a jolt.  However by mid month buds started forming. 

This year my beautiful friend has decided to be a New Year cactus, rather than Christmas. The blooms are the old fashioned variety that are hard to find these days in the nursery stores.  The deep rose blossoms are layered and hang gracefully.  They keep coming, so far only on the side facing the window.  Some years this plant has cheered up my winter days well into April.  Once it decides to take a rest I give it an intended pruning and share cuttings with neighbors and friends who are interested.  It has been a lovely heirloom from a lovely lady.  She was a great friend, and now her plant carries that relationship forward in memory.

Day after the Days Before, 2013

Nearly all the holiday decorations are put away.  I started to write All, and then thought about how I keep finding one here, one there, that I have missed.  Today was one of those “getting back to whatever is normal” days.   My furniture is back in place.  Husband gone on a trip, vacuum out, washing machine sloshing away, I was glad to have a warm wood fire to keep the house comfortable in our below zero temperatures.

            We have these below zero temperatures outside, snow of a fairly good depth, and yet I needed to dust.  Seems unfair, somehow.  Summer and dirt roads, yes, but now?  However it has always happened so I am no longer questioning it, just dull acceptance.  One of those  many eternal chores.

            Our squirrel of the last entry now has a name.  She is Miss Suzy, named after a favorite heroine in a childhood book of my children. My daughter reminded me about Miss Suzy and it is a perfect fit for this bustle of grey fur.  Miss Suzy put on a wonderful performance on New Year’s Day as we gathered around the table to eat dinner.  She was up and down, back and forth, even jumping from one pine tree to another.  All humans were highly entertained, no matter what their age, the youngest wanting to go play too.  Suzy goes way up high into the pines, these are 35 year old pine trees, and comes down just as fast as she goes up.  Somewhere along the way she has deposited the burden she was carrying when she started up the tree trunk.  I do want her to be safe from the predators of our neighborhood and hope that she finds a place for resting after all the exertions she puts forth.

            Now it is time to go read my current book.  Isn’t reading wonderful?!!  It has transported me to many places, situations, taught me much since I was a child.  This is one habit I want never to break!  Happy New Year to All!