Of the crowning of the year.
Make your house fair as you are able,
Trim the hearth and set the table.
People, look east and sing today:
Love, the guest, is on the way.
Eleanor Farjeon, 1928
I have always loved the sense of anticipation in this traditional Advent song. It is as relevent now as ever, as people around the world prepare to celebrate Christmas, busily baking, making, and decorating!
Although the preparations for Christmas are more exhausting now that I am a mother, I still cherish the moment when I open our boxes of decorations and remember the "story" behind each one. Christmas decorations are so unique and personal. I'm always appalled when I see trees that are decorated to coordinate with a decor or colour theme, where everything matches and looks brand new. The beauty of a Christmas tree is the stories it tells of Christmases past: baby's first, a bulb your mom handed down, a gift from a friend, a souvenir you picked up somewhere...this motley assembling of mismatched decorations is what makes your Christmas tree YOURS, and special.
A trove of memories.
The Inuit-made kamik I brought home from the North.
My dream-horse, a gift from my dear friend Rachel while we were in university.
These capable little 5-year-old hands worked diligently till the job was done, in spite of the prickly needles.While we were decorating, things got awfully quiet, which means Violet was either into something, or had left the building. When I turned to seek her out, I saw this:
Seriously? The nightgown! The bare feet! The rocking chair! The sweet bent head! My heart was fit to burst.
I snuck up to get a closer look at what had her so enthralled...
She whispered, "I wiss this staw was mine..."
Okay, my girl. It's yours.