When we moved to North Carolina in 1995, our family started a tradition to drive to the mountains and go to a "choose and cut" Christmas tree farm. My parents would let me and my sister loose and we would run and race to see who could find the best tree first.
It was a difficult process, between my mom and dad there were many rules and specifications to the perfect tree. The height and width were the first, but certainly not the only. Branch density, trunk width, needle type, color, fullness of the branches, and shape of course. I don't mean to make my parents sound strict. There was nothing mean or harsh about the way they evaluated the trees. It was a great game we played. We'd shout to each other across the lot announcing that we had found the perfect tree. Then everyone would gather around and check out the whole 360 degree view. We would all touch, look at, smell and even shake the tree (to see if a lot of needles would fall off, that's bad, means the tree is dried out and probably dieing). It was very exciting if the tree you found was the chosen one.
Then my dad would whip out his saw and cut it down, or the lot workers would do it for us. My parents would go through the whole trial of dragging it to the car and tying it on top of the car. My mom would hold her breath all the way home just waiting for it to break out of its intense bondage and fly off the roof of the car. Us kids would always be useless with the getting the tree inside and setting it up. That was left to my parents again. There would be needles flying all over the house and we would trot behind waiting to see it put into place.
Some years my dad would even let us choose a tiny tree that we were allowed to put in our room to decorate. It was usually the most Charlie Brown looking tree on the lot or just one he would cut down in our own woods for us.
Dad was in charge of the lights every year. He would struggle to untangle the mess of wires, test every bulb and finally artfully and evenly string them around the tree. This was not something the kids generally helped with either.
It wasn't until the ornaments that we got involved again. Then its all hands on deck. Each person has certain ornaments that are "theirs". My mom always insists that the girls put on all of "our" ornaments. Dad has one or two that he is forced off the sofa to place on the tree. Mom does whichever ones are left and of course her Georgia ornaments. This part is filled with Christmas tunes, hot cocoa, maybe even cookies, and lots of stories of Christmas times past. We talk about all the ornaments as we put them on the tree. They all have meaning and stories. I love this part of the holiday. Even when I pretended that I was too cool for it. This really makes me feel like its Christmas. My mom to this day still likes my sister and I to put a few of "our" ornaments on the tree. Even if the rest is already decorated.
This year Paul and I traveled to several different places to get a tree. We finally found a great tree with our friends. Like I told my friend after looking at two vendors across town for a tree, the tree will stand out to you. Its almost like your wedding dress, you just know. There is nothing you can find that's wrong with it. Its just the right tree.
I put the lights on it. Paul was making chili for dinner.
Oh well not a great picture. But as you can see oooooh lights. After eating dinner and some cookies and buckeyes were made, then we could start the decorating process.
Ah thank you Paul for the picture of my booty. Anyways, we don't have as many great ornaments as my parents. But we do have a few of special ones. Paul has a pickle he loves and mug of beer he just acquired. I have some wreaths my great-grandma crocheted, a few fleur de lis, an owl, and a whale from the Monterey Bay Aquarium. We even have some joint ornaments which is pretty good since this is only our third "married" Christmas. We have a portrait ball of Paul, me and the cat, Paul's parents got us last Christmas, a black sheep (that we put up as a family tradition because we aren't going to our parents' home for Christmas), and two shells from our cruises. All the glittering, twinkling and shinning makes me smile.
Now it feels like Christmas here. Even if there is no snow and its still 50 degrees!
Okay so this wasn't a post about any cute craft or tasty recipe. But more then that how to create the holiday spirit in your home. Just remember that even if everything doesn't go "perfectly" you can still make some lovely memories. I'm sure if my parents were telling this story they would remember some very different things then I do. But in the end its the feeling you get that leaves the biggest impact on your memory.
No comments:
Post a Comment