Boughs of Holly

Ahhh, this is the time of year when we sing songs, cheerily muddling through their "auld" lyrics, strapping nature to the car roof and carting it back into the city, lighting candles in the dark. We got the tree yesterday, but I'd been dreaming about our old-fashioned mantle (transplanted from elsewhere in New England). So, I rushed to decorate it instead as soon as we got home! Time travel.

When you turn the keys and open the cupboards, it smells rich, musty, and years away, like old-fashioned Christmases of another age, with distant french horns, smokey fires, long skirts, ancient carols in ancient tongues, words we don't use anymore whispered over the fire crackle ... (history makes me nerd out).

Can you spot a fawn by Emily?

A feather by Kate?

A holly bough from Jackie? (Carol of the Belles orders getting ready in the background)

A jar from Jess?

Prof. Bhaer and Jo March in their umbrella moment?

My mom is the best at decorating with nature in vignettes, letting branches fall where they may, a star land somewhere, adding something tiny like a doll's chair to spy on. There are always stories to find. I feel like she was the first one to use old tools, shovels and spades, hanging rusty beauty up sometimes to the detriment of walls, playfully throwing something cut from the garden up on a shelf and not fussing too much. I always think of my mom when I deck the halls.

Still working on the dining "corner"...getting there (we have a light now!)

Wishing you light and love–*SPECIAL* announcement tomorrow!