The day I love most is the one before a Big Holiday -- the lull, the anticipation, the hush before the hullabaloo. The day before, there’s still a chance the turkey will get done on time, the green bean casserole will be edible (although I can’t imagine that possibility), and the gifts I give will be perfect. Now we’re approaching the season of waiting and hope, and even though I’m not religious in an “organized” way, I’ve always loved the period of Advent because it coincides with the Winter Solstice and the return of the sun. The windows of Stephen Ellcock’s Celestial Advent Calendar (see a sample here) that I ordered from the UK last year opened on tiny parchment panes printed with mysterious and mythic pre space-age images of the heavens—a comet, an angel, the sun, planets, meteors, night skies and so on. Held up to the light, the windows were like miniature illuminated-manuscript pages. It was a daily reminder to look for signs of magic in the universe, to be open to the possibility of transformation, to bow before beauty. I struggle hard to be hopeful in the face of continued Covid, social unrest, and violence against democracy, but this year, I’m going to mark the traditional 24 days of Advent by committing deliberate acts of optimism: read or write a poem in the morning; wear my best clothes for no reason; donate to a charity that protects children; buy an amaryllis bulb and wait for it to bloom; write an appreciative postcard to a friend; light a candle on the Solstice; and so on. Any other suggestions I might incorporate?

I read constantly, omnivorously and indiscriminately, but every now and then there is a book that ravishes me—ravish being the only word to describe Still Life by Sarah Winman. It takes place in Florence and London, and it’s about art, joy, grief, history, beauty, the accidental families we cobble together, great meals, enduring friendships, sex, love and, whew! so much more—but above all love. Oh, and a talking parrot, of course.  

Am I the last to know there’s a new Downton Abbey movie coming in March? I thought the last one was ho-hum elitist puffery, but as much as I scoff, I might not be able to resist this escapist junk food. Because Maggie Smith! Speaking of her, have you seen the documentary Tea with the Dames? It’s an absorbing conversation between four great actresses -- Smith, Judy Dench, Eileen Atkins, and Joan Plowright.

I love the Night Tracks program on BBC Radio 3.(It's also accessible on Spotify.) Host Hannah Peel’s eclectic playlist choices range from classical to contemporary and everything in between. It’s a lullaby for late night.

If you want to splurge on someone, the Santa Maria Novella Terracotta Pomegranate infused with their Melograno perfume will leave an impression that lasts and lasts as the scent is released into the air. The place I remember most from my brief trip to Florence wasn’t a church or museum but a visit to the original 600-year-old Santa Maria Novella apothecary. Maybe you can tell that this week, Florence is on my mind.