Please don’t let your jaw hit the ground too hard: I still have my Christmas decorations up. How can I admit that? I dunno, it’s kind of like I don’t have to hide it any more once it’s out there. And it’s just in time for Valentine’s Day? It’s red stuff, isn’t it?
I should clarify: We did not do a traditional Christmas tree this year. So, no, there are no piles of tinder dry pine needles on the floor and everywhere else they tend to migrate to (think under furniture, in socks and underwear).
We did have some semblance of plant matter lit up in the usual corner of the living room. It’s a potted fig tree and another pot of bromeliad and succulents near each other on stools, festooned with delicate copper wires with LED lights and tasteful (if I do say so myself) glass balls which my son and I have made over the years, interspersed from the strands which run from a push pin in the ceiling coiled around both plants together. Lovely.
The year-round strand of white lights that run along the ceiling in the living room into the dining room are still full of the multitude of ornaments from childhood — my own as well as my boys’. This evolved after I didn’t want a big enough tree to accommodate them all but still wanted to enjoy them.
The Tim Buton-esque Santa figure, along with multitudes of snowmen, angels and a Santa squirrel made of straw are still lined up on the mantel along with the poinsettia lights. Even the stockings are still hung with care. (OK, that is getting to be a little too much even for me.)
I DID acquiesce to taking down the several dozen Christmas cards taped around the doorway and wall of the dining room. They’re in a pile on the dining room table. At one end. So there’s room to eat at two other open settings. So there.
Of course, this could all add an interesting twist to our annual summer soiree in August. “Woodstock-ings?” Hmmmm. I believe I’d feel obliged to get a stocking for each and every guest, with little goodies, naturally; all the expected treats — I may get a little over my head on that concept. It WILL be the 25th annual.
It’s rather an interesting phenomenon. It’s become such an integral part of the décor, the setting, the — whatever — it’s hard to imagine what it would look like without it all.
Less dusty. Less like I’m too lazy to pull the hundred-pound wooden ladder down from the attic, drag the boxes in that really should have been sorted out two seasons — make that five seasons — ago.
Bottom line is, if your Christmas was as abnormal as mine this year and so you want a little dose of that juju, or you are just a glutton for all things blingy and cheery (one may remotely describe this scene as such) you’re welcome to drop by. No fruitcakes allowed. Peppermint or chocolate treats, maybe.
Dianne Brooke’s column is special to The Cambrian. Email her at firstname.lastname@example.org, or visit her web site at www.ladytiedi.com.