Reflection and Renewal — Gently Finding Our Way Into the New Year

A gentle welcome for the year ahead — and an unhurried way to begin again.

January has a way of arriving with instructions already written for us, doesn’t it?
Begin again. Improve. Fix. Hurry.

But some years ask for something different.

Some years do not need to be conquered at all — only entered. And once inside, listened to. The quieter truths tend to reveal themselves that way, without ceremony or noise.

Here, reflection is not a reckoning, and renewal is not a contest to be won or lost.
What if it never needed to be?

Instead, it can be something simpler — an ongoing process of noticing what still matters, what has endured, and what might simply need a little tending rather than replacing.

If you have arrived here tired, or curious, or simply passing through, you are in good company. And welcome here.

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Meet Clara Thimblewick — A Holiday Note from Little Red Bear Land

From the Winter Desk of Clara Thimblewick

INTRODUCTION —

As we make our way through this busy December stretch, I thought it might be nice to pause for just a moment and share a quiet word from someone new in our Honey Hill world — someone many of you first met a few days ago in “The Lantern in Clara Thimblewick’s Window.”

Clara Thimblewick will soon be stepping into an important role in our community. Beginning in January, she will serve as the Editor of The Hearth & Holler Gazette, guiding our weekly wanderings through Honey Hill, Hopper’s Holler, Round Corners, and beyond with a steady hand and a thoughtful eye.

After spending much of her life working in newspapers back East, Clara has returned to Missouri to take up this new post and, in her words, “to resume a more measured life than present-day city rhythms permit.”

As a small seasonal greeting — and an early chance to become acquainted — Clara wished to offer a brief message to readers here on The Writing Pages. I am delighted to share her note with you today.

A Holiday Note from Clara Thimblewick —

It is my hope that this message finds you in a moment of quiet, however small such moments may be in December. The soft light of winter has a way of inviting reflection, even in the midst of the season’s many demands, and I am grateful for the opportunity to address you for the first time.

Although my name may be unfamiliar to you at present, please allow me to offer a brief introduction. I was raised in Missouri during childhood, later sent East for my schooling, and remained there for many years while building a career in the newspapers. I have now returned home to serve as Editor of The Hearth & Holler Gazette, a responsibility I accept with both humility and resolve. It is my intention to honor the stories of this community with clarity, fairness, and respect.

There is much work ahead as we prepare the Gazette for its January debut. New ventures often bring with them a quiet sense of anticipation, and I feel it very keenly. In time, I hope to become a familiar presence in your weekly reading — not by insistence, but by steady and conscientious service.

For now, I simply wish to extend to you my warmest regard during this winter season. May the quieter hours be gentle company to you and may the small lights along your path — a lamp in a window, a friendly word, a simple kindness — bring you a measure of comfort as the year draws to its close.

With sincere respect,
Clara Thimblewick 
Editor, “The Hearth & Holler Gazette” 

 

 

CLOSING THOUGHTS —

I hope Clara’s note brought a touch of calm to your day. She will be joining us more regularly once the Gazette begins its weekly visits in January, and I am looking forward to the steady presence she will bring to our little corner of Honey Hill Country.

Thank you for reading and settin’ a spell with us today.

— Jim (and Red!)

If you would enjoy a weekly visit to Little Red Bear’s Honey Hill Country, you are already in the right place. A simple subscription to The Writing Pages is all that is required. Beginning in January, the Hearth & Holler Gazette will arrive automatically each week, bringing a small slice of Honey Hill Country to your doorstep.

 

P.S. from Little Red Bear — “Clara is too polite to say it, but I am not — you ought to sign up for the Gazette. Good things are on the way, and I would hate for you to miss out.”

“Christmas Lives On Honey Hill”

A Christmastime Poem from Honey Hill Country

There’s something about this time of year, isn’t there? When the evenings grow still, the air turns crisp, and the world seems to lean just a little closer to the heart. Christmas has a way of stirring memories long tucked away — quiet moments, warm gatherings, and the gentle light of home.

As we move through December together, I thought I’d share a little holiday verse from Honey Hill Country — a simple reminder that Christmas isn’t found in the rush or the noise, but in the places and people who help us feel rooted. Perhaps you’ve known that feeling, too?

Please enjoy this Christmastime moment from Little Red Bear’s world.

“Christmas Lives On Honey Hill”

The moonlight drifts through the walnut trees,
Soft silver on Honey Hill,
And something familiar keeps whispering there
In the quiet, deep, and still.
Down in the towns the lamplights glow,
And wagons roll through the square —
But my heart keeps turning to holler paths
And to all my friends who gather there.
For Christmas lives in these winding woods,
Where the creek runs slow and mild,
And stories rise like chimney smoke
From every home-bound child.
I’ve walked through cities dressed in lights,
And felt the winter’s bite —
But nothing warms a wanderer’s heart
Like a hearth fire burning bright.
So, I’m heading back through the frosted pines,
Where the evenings smell of tea,
Where Little Red Bear keeps an extra chair
At the table — just for me.
Where neighbors stray in two by two,
Old tales are passed around,
And laughter spills like fiddle tunes
Across the snowy ground.
Where the young and old lean shoulder-close
As the carols rise and fall,
The golden glow of candle lanterns
Shining hope for one and all.
And I’ll remember those gone on ahead,
Their love still here to guide me —
For love still lingers in these hills,
And guides my spirit home.
Yes — Christmas lives on Honey Hill,
In every heart and hand.
A place where the season’s truest gifts
Are easy to understand.
So let the moonlight drift through the walnut trees —
It knows where I long to be —
Back among friends in the quiet holler,
Where Christmas comes gentle and free.

Thank you for sharing a few quiet December moments with me today. Isn’t it comforting how a simple poem can call up warm memories when we least expect it? Wherever you may be this season, I hope a little Honey Hill spirit finds its way to your home and heart.

— Jim  (and Red!)

If this poem brought a little warmth or comfort your way, I’d be honored if you shared it with someone who might need the same.

And this Saturday, I will be sharing a brand-new Little Red Bear Christmas vignette — “The Lantern in Clara Thimblewick’s Window.” It is a gentle story of light, kindness, and the spirit of the season. I hope you’ll drop in and join us for it.

Pen-and-ink illustrations created with the assistance of AI and lovingly styled for Little Red Bear Land.