Decked...

 I unabashedly love Christmas. This year has been a little busy, so I am not quite at my normal level of high spirits. I listen to holiday music all day long, and that helps, and I have decked the house. Don't get me wrong, I am perfectly happy, just not humming along at the high level of holiday joy I am usually infused with. I guess I'm distracted. 

A wreath on an old sled greets visitors. 

The tree was up and had lights on it for a week or more before I finally got the ornaments on. Sometimes I dream about having a themed tree, something sort of elegant and fancy. I look at pictures of such trees and feel a little pang. I plot ways I might like to create a unique and special display. Then I open up the bins of my old ornaments and find myself taking a snowy stroll down memory lane. Each ornament has a remembrance attached. That bright red heart in the center? I stitched that as one of my first sewing projects in my teens. There is the ornament from our first married Christmas, (ironically, a gift from my x-boyfriend's grandparents.) I love the one from Rachel's first noel. There are several she made as a child, and some my niece made. Lots given by cherished friends, some now gone before. One that was my mothers. One that belonged to Chris's mother. The end result is a sort of childish mish-mash. It distinctly lacks any type of theme, and the word "elegant" would never be used in describing it. But as I unwrap each decoration from its bin, I am awash in the sort of memories that make the holiday special. 

Sister Deb came last weekend to meet the Owlet. It was delightful to see her take the babe into her arms and watch her face light up. Little hearts shot out of her eyes and I was able to witness her fall in love,  hard. She brought supper to share (a magnificent lasagna) and while she was here said, "Let me wrap all your presents." Trust me, she didn't have to ask twice. I chucked rolls of paper and tape and ribbon at her and let her at it. She is far more skilled at gift-wrapping than I am, and each package looks a treat. She says her retirement job is helping people. She's well suited to this gig, but I am not sure if it pays enough. Unless you count baby snuggles... those are priceless. 

Note, I knitted those booties, and it is something else to see them on the Owlet's wee feet. 

I had to take a picture of the dogs by the tree. Bravo poses nicely. Flirt, on the other hand, is barely cooperative. She turned 12 on Sunday and cares not about my desire for a pleasantly arranged image. She does what she wants. Always has. 

A few years ago Deb found me a Christmas village set at a yard sale. Each little house was packed in a Styrofoam form, and sweet, old-fashioned handwriting described where every building belongs. Whoever owned it before me loved it. I do, too. 

When we first moved to Memphis, (1989) I met a neighbor who became a friend. I hadn't known her long when she made me this beautiful nativity scene. It is a true treasure. 

The little wooden nativity to the left is a relic from my childhood. It was displayed on the living room mantel each Christmas. 

My friend also made me a set of angels. I am particularly fond of the sweet, sleepy little cherub on the left. 

Visitors entering our home see this tableau. 

A collection of happy snowmen on the shelf, (complete with fairy lights when it's dark outside.) The big advent calendar on the right was made by Rachel and is a particular joy to me. Each pocket holds a little note with a happy memory written by a variety of family members.) 

The shadow on the wall is from a vase that holds 2 roses and some pine boughs. 15 years ago I went to a local florist in December and asked for a dozen roses. She packed them with fresh pine and I was puzzled at first, but soon grew to appreciate the loveliness. Now every December I put vintage bottles with a rose or three around the house, tucking a spring of pine in each one. It's a happiness. 

This entire season is a happiness. As I trot out each well-loved decoration, I am imbued with memories of Christmas past. The people, the pets, the kindnesses. I may be a little distracted this year, but not so much that I forget to be grateful for all the recalled joys. They surround me, in brilliant color, delicious flavor, and sweet scent. I vow to take time to sit a bit and enjoy the beauty and light of the season.