Muse du Jour

My name is Marianne Plumridge. I am an artist of mythic fantasy works and fine art images. I also satisfy my creative muse with sewing, cooking, writing and reading. These are my thoughts and adventures with whichever muse drives me each day. You can find more of my art at www.marianneplumridge.com

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Location: New England, United States

Sunday, December 24, 2006

Christmas Down Under…Plum Pudding and Gum trees.

Merry Christmas

Having snow for Christmas is very unseasonable for me. My Aussie homeland is usually hot, dry and dusty about this time of year, with huge bright, blue skies; and our brand of evergreens are usually gum trees (eucalypts) instead of the preferred pine or fir trees. One would wake up Christmas morning expecting to hear about a bushfire somewhere, along with the presents Santa had placed under our Christmas tree. My childhood memories always seem linked with long hot golden summers and rambles in the bush, either walking or riding my bike along the trails. Christmas would sometimes be away from home, either in a tent up at Lake Wangi Wangi, or on a beach somewhere up north, where the sand was white and the water was a clear as the proverbial crystal. There was always a Santa visiting the campsites in those days, doling out bulging bags of mixed lollies (candy) to all of the excited kids, while parents kept an eye on their rambling broods.

My earliest of memories was dinner or lunch at Grandma Plumridge’s or Nanna Beattie’s house. Both were excellent cooks, and used to cooking for a sizeable brood. Grandad Beattie was a pastry cook to boot. So while the main meals were often mouth watering, you just knew that the desserts would be worth waiting for. I know my dad still thinks wistfully of Grandma Plumridge’s huge traditional Christmas puddings. They would be enormous to my kiddie eyes. I used to spot it hanging ponderously from her kitchen ceiling when we’d visit through December. My Grandma Plum’ was the queen of the fruit puddings and cakes – and I do believe I’ve inherited her touch for them, but not her incredible icing skills.

Ah, Santa… Did you know that when Santa visits Australia, he gives the reindeer a break because of the heat? He harnesses up six snow-white kangaroos to do the job! Australian singer/songwriter, Rolf Harris immortalized them in his song “Six White Boomers”. See below…

Meanwhile, while you wait for the red-suited one to shimmy down your chimney or scoot across your threshold tonight, I wish you a magical Christmas Eve, and day. And may you be surrounded by the ones you hold dearest: enjoying peace and love within their company.

And to all those who can’t be with us, I’ll raise my glass to “Absent Friends”…

Peace be with you…

"Six White Boomers"
© Rolf Harris & John D. Brown 1965

(Introduction)
Early on one Christmas Day, a Joey Kanga-roo,
Was far from home and lost in a great big zoo.
Mummy, where's my mummy, they've taken her a-way,
We'll help you find your mummy son, hop on the sleigh.

Chorus:
Six white boomers, snow white boomers,
Racing Santa Claus through the blazing sun.
Six white boomers, snow white boomers, ..
On his Aus-tra-lian run.

Verse:
Up beside the bag of toys, little Joey hopped ,
But they had'nt gone far when Santa stopped.
Un-harnessed all the reindeer and Joey wondered why,
Then he heard a far off booming in the sky.

Chorus:
Six white boomers ...

Pretty soon old Santa began to feel the heat,
Took his fur-lined boots off to cool his feet.
Into one popped Joey, feeling quite OK,
While those old man kangaroos kept pulling on the sleigh.

Chorus:
Six white boomers ...
Joey said to Santa, Santa, what about the toys,
Aren't you giving some to these girls and boys.
They've all got their presents son, we were here last night,
This trip is an extra trip, Joey's special flight.

Chorus:
Six white boomers ...

Soon the sleigh was flashing past, right over Marble Bar,
Slow down there, cried Santa, it can't be far.
Come up on my lap son, and have a look around,
There she is, that's mummy, bounding up and down.

Chorus:
Six white boomers ...

Well that's the bestest Christmas treat that Joey ever had,
Curled up in mother's pouch all snug and glad.
The last they saw was Santa headed northward from the sun,
The only year the boomers worked a double run.

Chorus:
Six white boomers ...

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