Mindful, as always, of my grandmother's injunction that the Christmas tree must go out the door before the the New Year comes in, I'll spend today breaking up Christmas.
All the little Christmas tschotchkes will be hunted down from their various perches and assembled on the dining table to be put into boxes.
Disassembling the tree is a slow but pleasant task, first the candy canes, crocheted snowflakes, tin icicles, red bows -- all the 'bulk' ornaments. Then the fragile glass ornaments, the many one-of-a-kind ornaments, and last, the stuffed ornaments -- reminders of long gone days with toddlers in the house.
Next to last is the popcorn and cranberry string. I'll slide the popcorn and cranberries off the thread and into a bucket for the chickens -- who will devour the popcorn and ignore the cranberries. Last of all, the lights come off and John drags the tree outside to a final resting place somewhere in the woods.
The Santas and the two Nativity scenes in the corner cupboard get put away. The spare grouping below includes a Holy Family of delicately carved and painted wood. I gave them to my grandmother many years ago and they came back to me on her death. There was a wonderful little lamb as part of the scene but he disappeared a few years ago. (I suspect William.)
The canopy over Baby Jesus (made from the wire topper for a champagne bottle) was put there a while back by Justin and I can't make myself remove it. The lovely little angel, probably from the same Italian workshop as the other figures, was a gift this year. And yes, that's a Swedish Yule horse peeking out from the background. Better than the year the boys added Darth Vader and Han Solo to the Nativity.
Finally, the Christmas cards come off the shelves and all the increasingly dry greenery (FIRE HAZARD! I think, whenever we leave the house) will go to join the Christmas tree.
We leave the lights up though, to brighten the dark days of January.
We leave the lights up though, to brighten the dark days of January.