Christmas… is not an external event at all, but a piece of one’s home that one carries in one’s heart. ~Freya Stark
Today is tree and home decorating time. Yesterday, we went and picked out our tree, which this year is named Alistair. Every year we choose a name for the tree. Last year was Meinhardt… I would have chosen something more manly and Viking-ish, but we decide as a family on tree names…
I love this time of year. It goes back to my Mother, and the huge deal she always made about Christmas.
We always had piles of presents under a real tree, and the house was beautifully decorated.
My mom has passed but I’m carrying on the tradition.
I even have many of the family decorations from my Grandmother, and some from a time no one can recall (old in monkey years).
Along with all of my antique decorations we’re constantly acquiring new ones as a family.
We have ten foot high ceilings, so we get a large tree. A big tree sucks up decorations like a green sponge.
My Mother saved the ornaments I made as a child, and I have them now. I’ll pass them on to my daughter when she establishes a family of her own (which better not be for a LONG time… She’s not quite 14).
Here’s an example of my handiwork. I made this Santa was I was in Kindergarten, circa 1976…
It used to embarrass me when my Mother hung it on the tree. Now, I’m thankful she saved it.
I imagine one day my great grand children will treasure the ratty old Santa that I made when I was five.
I know I would, if I had a treasure from the past made by a distant ancestor… Even if it is butt ugly.
So, tonight, after dinner, we’re going to decorate Alistair.
I have the angel tree topper from my parent’s first Christmas together which goes on first. Then the lights, and finally the treasures from my past… and present.
Afterwards, we’ll hang the outside lights, sit back and enjoy the festive atmosphere.
Before that can happen though, I need to get the tree standing up straight.
Doug managed to get stuck in the tree. He thinks he looks better on top than the angel does, but we don’t agree.
I need to get that monkey down before he breaks something. No, I’m not worried about his silly neck… I mean one of my fragile and precious memories…