December When It Comes

Decisions, old scissors, and the soft grace of a slow breath

First snow

December When It Comes

I can feel the year winding down. December, when it comes, brings its own quiet gifts of time and space.

“It’s the little things that make life sweet.”

That’s a line from my song Little Things, but after spending the past few weeks cleaning out my mom’s shed, I’d like to argue that point. She didn’t have much—not a hoarder by any stretch. She simply had a lot of little things. And every little thing requires a decision.

As I sorted through plastic tubs, I listened to Alan Watts’ Easter Wisdom, Modern Life. At one point, he tells a story about a farmer who asked his hired hand to sort potatoes. After a single day, the man quit. “I can’t take it… It’s just decision after decision after decision,” he said. I laughed out loud because I understood exactly what he meant.

Take the tub of scissors sitting outside on our porch. At least a dozen pairs—old, sturdy, the kind made back when things were built to last. One of them once cut my first piece of fabric pinned beneath a thin Simplicity pattern. I couldn’t tell you which pair now, but I know it was one of these. And now they sit there, waiting for me to decide their fate. I don’t know what to do with them yet. But I know I must choose.

And once I make that decision, there will be more—another potato. That’s the rhythm of life: movement and choice. Moment by moment, I get to decide how I spend my hours and my resources. What a privilege that is.

As I write, the song Simmer plays softly in my mind, soothing every frayed edge.

Breathe easy, long and slow…

There will always be movement—even in a long, slow breath, even in a soft, bubbling simmer. And somehow, that gentle movement feels so right.

Here’s to slow breaths, gentle decisions, and the grace of choosing what comes next.

Scattered snapshots, some old, some new—small joys, quiet pauses, and the moments that stay.

Alongside the busyness of the holidays, we’re often gifted these small pockets of stillness. Simmer lives in that space—the sacred pause where things are allowed to rest, to gather themselves, to become. It’s the essence of life, really: a quiet place where beauty unfolds when it’s ready, not a moment sooner.

Here’s a roundup of My Sunday Best posts from this past month

Thank you for sharing this full moon with me, for noticing the moments that stay with us, and the quiet pause before we begin again. Until next time, may your days be soft and spacious.

All my love,

Trisha

P.S. This month’s Full Moon Song & Dance looks a little different. I’ve decided to simplify and bring it together with My Sunday Best here on Substack. Both pieces have always held the same heart—reflection, story, and a moment to breathe—so combining them feels natural. Thank you for reading along as things evolve. I’m glad you’re here. If you get a duplicate email, please let me know.

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Speaking of December….

I created this work of art last year—yes, I had a box or two in mom’s shed. 😜 If you have a vinyl lover on your gift list, I’ve got the perfect pick waiting for you. 😊🎁 get the Travelin’ Light Vinyl Album