In my efforts to reclaim Christmas this year, I considered skipping the Christmas tree. It takes a lot of effort and futzy-work to set up, decorate, and then undo the whole thing when the celebrating is over. I think I could enjoy a happy Christmas without the tree. I really do. But my family intervened. They offered to be more involved and to help me "do" the tree. And so. Here it is.
And now that it's up in our living room, I'm glad it's there. Because from it's top. . .
(. . . what? Doesn't every Victorian Santa tree topper carry a Spidey?) . . . to it's bottom. . .
(a hand-embroidered tree skirt I made in 1983). . . the tree so perfectly reflects my family. You can tell so much about us when you look at the ornaments on the tree.
We're Swedish. . .
and Irish. . .
We fish. .
and sing. . .
and play hockey. . .
and garden. . .
The tree has a sense of history, too. Ornaments from my own childhood. . .
and from our early-married-living-on-the-cheap years. . .
and from our kids' childhoods.
Our tree honors our pets, too. From our first cat - the beloved Jelly (now THAT was Some Cat!). . .
to our current furry pal, Jenny.
Now that it's up, I can't imagine reclaiming Christmas without it! The lights, the symbols, the memories.