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23 December 2009. Slept in until half eight this morning, when certain high-pitched voices started to twitter in the schoolroom. I ate breakfast downstairs. Aunt Lisa was knitting in the dining room, and Andrew drifted down eventually, and Anna followed suit. We were sitting and chatting pleasantly when Stephen poked his head into the room and said, “E, I think Moochy is out of the yard and is running up and down the easement.” I dashed outside, and Moochy came bounding up to me. Stephen held her, I roped the gate shut, and we put the dog back inside the gate. About half-an-hour later, Ross returned from a run around Boomer Lake. “This black-and-white dog followed me halfway. It looked both ways and then ran across the street, and it followed me until it got distracted by the geese,” he said. O, the adventures of Moochy….

After lunch, Laura, Lillian, and Annalee went ice skating with Bridget and Abigail. Ross started to make lasagna noodles for tonight, using my mother's pasta press and Mary’s help. Anna and I went with Uncle Kirk, Philip, Andrew, Peter, and Stephen to Boomer Lake to play frisbee golf and walk Moochy. The morning had been overcast and chilly but not cold; the afternoon was overcast with a rising North wind. The cold was becoming bitter. The boys walked across the hill to start on the course, and Anna and I walked on north around the lake. We only went as far as the second bridge, but as we started down the path, an enormous hawk fell out of a tree with a big pigeon clutched in its talons. It dropped the pigeon and glared at us from the top of a lamppost; we were so close that I could look right up into its great yellow-rimmed eye.

We were the only ones at the lake. Anna and I turned around and walked back up the hill, rejoining the guys, who were starting the fourth hole. A red SUV drove past slowly a couple of times, the passengers gaping at us, and a couple of black cars with tinted windows also circled by before stopping to park under a tree. It was a bit creepy. We had been sauntering happily around the course, but then we picked up our pace, crossed the inlet, and went up the hill by the playground, away from the road. Moochy was enjoying herself thoroughly. Philip egged her on so that she wrapped Uncle Kirk in several loops of leash, and then he teased her to start chasing him, with the result that Uncle Kirk stumbled mildly and then extricated himself. Andrew decided to try the trick himself—but instead of winding anyone in loops of leash, Andrew tripped, fell, and ended up in a ball on the grass, Moochy enthusiastically licking his face, butting her nose through his crossed arms. We stood round and laughed at him. He was laughing, too.

We walked on, a loose knot. Anna and I trailed behind the boys, encouraging them or laughing at bad throws. When they got to the hole at the top of the hill by the ROTC building, I started to feel chilled, so Anna and I walked home. Anna, Peter, and Andrew sat on the sofa, reading Sheldon comics. I curled up with them, and Mary came and fell asleep sprawled across our laps. We giggled and giggled. Stephen squeezed onto the sofa beside us. My mother was quietly reading her Bible at the living room table; Philip was playing a game on his computer upstairs; Ross and Aunt Lisa were cooking. The house felt very quiet. The four or five of us sat on the sofa reading about Sheldon, Arthur, and Dante for about two hours, while Mary napped on our laps.

The girls came back from skating, and the house was full, warm, and noisy again. We ate tea at about six o’clock. After, while Philip, Ross, Peter, and Annalee were playing spades, the rest of us convened in an arc in the living room to watch “A Lesson in Murder” from Season 1 of Foyle’s War. Anna, Laura, and I had seen it before and relished everyone’s reaction when they recognized David Tennant. The episode ended at about ten, and Anna went home to meet her family.

After she left, people started to go to bed. Mary kept popping downstairs to say good-night or get a drink, but finally all the wee jack-in-the-boxes were put to sleep. Aunt Lisa, Ross, Uncle Kirk, and I sat in the living room talking until about eleven o’clock with Stephen and Peter. Aunt and uncle make one feel included but also carefree, relaxed, at ease. Finally I got up and turned out the lights, and we went to bed—except the boys, who are playing computer games in Philip’s room. The wind is picking up outside. Tomorrow is supposed to be a blizzard.