By Marianne Wood

The gifts of the magi, the gifts of the spirit, the gifts we give for birthdays, holidays, and all sorts of celebrations vary greatly. At this time of year, my news and social media feeds are full of recommendations, from books to groceries. The Trader Joe advertisement sucked me in today. So many things to try like Squiggly Knife Cut Style Noodles that are ”frazzled Medusa hair shaped and promise a nice springiness.” Resisting the Cinnamon Twist Danish will be hard for the one with a sweet tooth in our home. But Norwegian Sourdough Rye chips with their “deep toasty rye flavor” will go first in my shopping cart. Cold weather lights up my appetite. But my appetite for exploring a new train of thought begins now. I want to examine all kinds of gifts and I choose to start with curiosity. 

Long ago, a woman in my adult Sunday School class replied to a question offered by a speaker: “What personal trait do you value most?” I remember her reply vividly. And I remember my inward response, “I want that.” So I worked at developing what little I had. 

So it is no surprise that, when an odd box appeared on a common rural route that my husband, Larry, and I take almost daily, we began trying to guess what it was. Weeks went by with no one moving it or removing it. Was it put there on purpose? Was it placed there for our amusement? Or had it simply blown out of the back of a truck like so many untethered items? 

Larry suggested it might be a mouse house. It seemed to be a good size for sheltering smaller sized rodents. And the color, cream, would be nice. It would make a tiny home seem larger than if it were a dark color. So why was it there, week after week? Curiosity finally got the better of me one day when our grandchildren and their parents were traveling this stretch with us. So we pulled over and I went over to investigate. I guess I wanted to demonstrate the power of curiosity to the children, and so I did, taking photos to show. No, it is not a mouse house (yet) – just an old refrigerator bin that probably fell out of the back of an uncovered wagon like the one that pitched ole Pecos Bill to the coyotes, who became his new family in a favorite story.

Examining these pictures, now reduced to outlines with the help of fancy tech tools, brings on another curiosity posed in the early 20^th century by Pablo Picasso and Georges Braque (later joined by others) when they asked us to think about multiple perspectives with the subjects of their works broken down, then reconfigured. The style is very blocky. But it makes us think about art. And about the need to try a new way of processing when we find ourselves trapped in one way of thinking or another. That’s as deep as I am going with this piece, as you will see.

Next up is a question that arose after a Thanksgiving spent with a puppy and two children. If you rub noses with a five-year-old and then get licked in the face by a puppy, will the germs canceled each other out? We probably know the answer to that, but isn’t it a fun thing to consider?  ‘Hope it’s true!

I’m also curious about how to describe the seasons in our North Central Texas region, aka, West Texas, to people who live elsewhere. Though we’re geographically located at the midpoint of Texas, “Texas weather” can mean so many things. What do I tell my friends and family who live way up north or way out west? Seems like we have summer, then intermittent fall, winter, and spring. We have an average annual temperature of 66. I like it. Maybe just stop there. When they visit, they should get it. We get to wear shirtsleeves and a light sweater or jacket while they are bundled five items deep for at least a third of their year!

I’m also curious about French history, the meanings of various puppy dog tail positions, how to make good food with little fuss, and how to live as close to Christ as possible so that I am free to love freely. So I research all and bask in the wonder of a curious mind. What do you want to know? What are your favorite gifts?

Marianne Wood enjoys writing, painting, and teaching art