the tail end of the holidays tails off

Moving into January, in our latitude the days are a few minutes longer but mostly the afternoons are still dark and desperate, in the sense of overdue work assignments, unfinished projects, unimproving self-improvement missions. And February approaches. February is a dangerous time around here, the post-holiday letdown of early January turns into full-fledged demented boredom. Most of my failed experiments have failed in February. It was in February that I learned that I was not meant to have red hair. In February I learned that there are only 2 days a year (neither in February) that I can wear leather slacks, and this does not mean that I should have spent the money just in case life finds me in St Petersburg in October again. In February I learned that I should not date professional athletes. The air hums with undertones of pointless squabbles, I step around piles of things that one of us wants to throw out and the other still uses/needs/wants. If Julia Child had 75 frying pans, surely I can have an extra 3 or 4?
Meanwhile, it's still January, and in another few days we will celebrate "Give up waiting for a thank-you and call them and make sure the thing got there" day. Bills arrive, complaint time is running out. I did try to simplify things, our holiday dinners were streamlined this year, and I also excused myself from some of the hall-decking and stupid crafting in which I usually indulge. Nor did I bake, although I took out the cookie cutters and let them get some fresh air. But it wouldn't be right to start a new year without some festive silly food, would it?
This seems to be the year of the Food Diorama, so here we go:

What is so festive about upended shaved zucchini, you ask? well, I thought they looked like they were watching over the sheep. In fact, I thought they looked worried about the sheep. As in, "the zucchinis were abiding in the fields..."
so even though the merry vegetables shown here don't meet my usual criterion of being something you would put on a plate and let the kids carry around to the company, I felt their participation in a little holiday pageant of their own deserved recognition. Laaadies and gentlemen, your attention please! Before we put away the rest of the boxes and file the last of the gift receipts, a special treat! The zucchinis will abide in the fields!

I also want to introduce you to a new genre in food art - new to me anyway: Historical Landmarks Not Made of Cake and Frosting. The first one is easy:

and the other is Shakespeare's birthplace, featuring the leftovers from (someone else's, not my) Sunday lunch. Note the teeny ham pennants delicately festooning the landscaping behind the house. It's all in the details.