Baubles and Bangles

 

Candle on my Christmas tree.

With baubles and bangles pulled out of the attic, I sat in the quiet of this old house just waiting and thinking about decorating my tree. The tree that spoke to me, or should I say whispered to me on Saturday while stomping through the snow at Bud and Deb’s Christmas tree farm. We all gathered to find the perfect Christmas tree. Jonah and Graham trudged ahead throwing snowballs at each other as if they were ten, and I was delighted in that. Every few steps they would holler out, “Hey, Nannie, come check this one out!” So, I found my way out to them. I listened carefully for those sacred words, “Take me home with you.” I was looking for a tall, skinny tree this year with lots of space for my candles.

The trees were all beautiful, but it takes just the right one. Finally, as I listened carefully to the sound of wind in the forest, I heard the words. Actually, I think they sang to me this year. The boys took turns cutting the tree down and then went in search of their With the baubles and bangles pulled from the closet, I begin the task of decorating the family Christmas tree. As we were walking over to their tree, Rachel said, “We are building such traditions for the boys. Someday they will do this with their families.” Yes, they will, I thought.

Once home, they set my tree up in the front window of my old house. How many trees have graced this old house in the past 120 years? Wouldn’t it be nice to know? Luckily, they shook the tree well at Bud and Deb’s so that no squirrel would come charging out at me when it finally came home. The moment it was placed in the stand, the scent of pine filled every corner of this house.

Off I went to the wagon rides and then to meet Elten and Carolyn at Cork and Barrel which has become our Saturday night hang out in my neighborhood! Arriving home I sat and just looked at my bare tree and not knowing where to start. By morning I had a plan, and with tubs of decorations surrounding me, I started the joyful…and tearful…task of decorating my tree. I put the strands of lights on three times, but by the third try I decided to just let it go. Of course, as I worked, I thought of all the trees in my lifetime. I am glad I still believe in the magic and festive fun. As I worked, I put on “It’s a Wonderful Life.” I love that movie from beginning to end. One of the very last lines is spoken by George’s brother. He said as he made a toast, “To my brother, George Bailiey, the richest man I know.”

I sat down at the end and thought of my dad. My dad died years ago the day after Christmas. Before his death, he called us all in one at a time. I don’t know what he said to the others, I really don’t, but in that raspy voice he said to me, “You are my richest daughter.” Of course, he didn’t mean in a monetary sense. Listening to the end of the movie, and the loving words, I thought of what my dad said to me. One thought leads to another as I remember as a child helping my dad untangle all the strands of lights. Once he had them all working, he unplugged them and wound them around the tree artistically. It always took my dad just one time. He then stood back and let us do all the rest of the work, except for the high places. Tinsel came last, and we always threw it by the handfuls. (Does anyone do tinsel any longer?) Once it was decorated, we held hands as my dad plugged in the tree. Magic.

It is different now as I decorate my own tree. Of course, I thought of all those trees at the farm with my boys. They remember, and yes, we pass the magic on to them along with other traditions.

I place the German pickle in a good hiding place. The first to find it gets the first gift of Christmas, but whom am I kidding? The boys will find it in a heartbeat.

I plug in my tree and sing my own songs around my own tree.

Little tree, little silent Christmas tree

 when you're quite dressed

you'll stand in the window for everyone to see

and how they'll stare!

oh but you'll be very proud

 

e.e. cummings