The tree I snagged from Don French last weekend is up, visible from the road through the window of what once was the barn loft. St. Nicholas Day has passed chocolate in the shoes, not one child stolen away by Krampus, the monster who accompanies.
On a cold Saturday evening in the beginning of December, a crowd gathers around a roaring fire on the beach. Huddled together, before the ocean and beneath the emerging stars, staring at the purpose-built fire- a hallmark of our species. We sing.
In Jamaica, budding reggae artistes usually cut their teeth on local sound systems. Those mobile discotheques regularly play beyond their boundaries, giving singers and deejays a taste of what it’s like outside their comfort zone. This has been a.