One thing I really do love is a handmade Christmas ornament. The kids put up the Christmas tree early this week; the eldest daughter have made us all solemnly promise not to do it until she was home from University. Our Christmas tree is on the small side and is getting to the end of its useful life, and the kids have been nagging me to get a new one of a more reasonable size. The son who is heading towards six foot claims it is sacrilege if Christmas tree is not taller than you. This years Christmas tree has been said to look like "Santa threw up on it".
The decorated tree may not look like the designer Christmas trees you see in the shops and magazines with their colour themed matching ornaments and minimalist decorations but I still love it. I think of it as a mini time capsule, a story tapestry of the last 20 something years of our family life told in handmade decorations: some made by me, some by the children and some by deceased family members. (There are also an inordinate number of ornaments from various fast food restaurants' kids meals)!
For example, I love the wonky pink pipe-cleaner angel on the top tree, testimony to the eldest daughter's first efforts with a glue gun. There is nothing angelic about its facial expression and it brings back memories of both scorched finger tips and its extremely proud creator.
Jean Greenhowe's Christmas Special.
Just to finish up on:
On the first day of Christmas my true love gave to me:
A cat about to destroy a Christmas tree!