Bright Lights and the Promise of Feathers

After five years of abstention, I put up a Christmas tree this year. I did it solely for me. Five years back, many things had changed; I no longer had close family who were not home bound. The life styles of my extended family members had changed so that they were seeking their own traditions. The holiday itself offered little to recommend it, so I withdrew from the season.

Perhaps decorating a tree after a five year hiatus doesn't sound like an accomplishment, but you see this holiday was my very favorite all those earlier years and sadly to say, I behaved like a Martha Stewart clone. I gathered natural elements like pine cones, berries, branches and dried flowers and made wreaths and decorations. If it didn't move in my home, it got decorated with something. When I had overnight guests, each bedroom had it's own tree, its own stash of goodies including small coffee pots and/or selections of tea for those personalized moments alone. I cooked and baked both traditional and specialized cookies and cakes, some of which took a minimum of two days in the making. I put together calorie laden care packages for neighbors, my mailed cards were written in calligraphy complete with impressed wax seal. I did it all up well and I relished the doing.

I forgave everyone including myself when the build up and anticipation was more satisfying than the culmination. And I dismantled it all and stored it away with notes to myself on what needed repair or replacement and what should be added the following year. And I rarely bought anything 'Christmasy' in the after holiday sales, ignoring frugality for the following year's joy at anticipating again, even as I visited the malls and saw more anger and frustration on mature faces than I saw joy, and noticed less awe on younger faces than sly calculation.

However, my primary thrill in all this madness was always the lights, be they colored or white, standard or miniature, bubble or still. It was all always about the bright lights of the season. And the greatest let down of all was when all those homes, stores, rooms, streets, corners, and green ways suddenly went dark. I never understood why anyone wanted to go into a brand new year without light.

Although I closely coexisted with people of various faiths, the holiday rarely struck me as a religious one, although I did greatly enjoy the sensation of sharing and closeness it could conjure. Frankly, however, most of that feeling was because of winter solstice and the inherent beauty of light. Even during those years when I disdained decorating a tree, I still took evening drives through various neighborhoods to bask in the holiday light show - often with nostalgia, sometimes with sadness, sometimes with awe and too frequently with mirth at what Goethe described as "nothing more fearsome that imagination without taste."

I was fortunate to be in London several times in the past immediately prior to the holiday, and when one talks of holiday lights in London, nothing beats the decorations at Harrod's. The first time I drove by one house in my neighborhood over ten years ago, I stopped the car in the middle of the street and with my mouth hanging open, I simply stared. It was Harrod's!! In my town! I doubt anyone but me truly appreciates the effort those home owner's put into that display because of it's brightness - their electric bill could probably fund full scale war in a small country. Because of the muscular coordination the owner's need to erect those humongous star bursts on the top of that high, two story house, they might be related to the flying Wolenda's, but I've never asked. I simply enjoy and laugh. I was worried about them this year because the decorations were slow to appear, but two nights ago they were there - and their neighbor's blinds were drawn closed.

This year my tree is only a six foot artificial and although I'll probably be sorry, I did not wire it to the walls. As you already know if you've read my past postings, I've become a cliche. I live with cats. And cats happen to love batting at anything that moves within their visual spectrum and also love climbing trees. My tree of choice prior to this one was a ten foot one in the living room which has a cathedral ceiling. It took between two and three days to get it set up. It took my cats only one night to bring it to near total destruction. After a forensic invesigation to put CSI Las Vegas to shame, I determined that at least one, if not more, of my not-so-lady like felines had jumped from branch to branch to branch slowly working their way higher and higher. At least they waited until the week between Christmas and New Years to bow those branches so badly that one had to be wired to another so that things remained reasonably upright. They removed many of my designer ornaments, but at least disdained the glass one for those made of feathers that looked like birds.

And as usual, the cats 'helped' when I put up this tree. It probably won't last too long, but as long as the lights remain lit, I won't complain too much. It's only me and the girls to enjoy the lights of the season anyway, so let those beautifully stubborn felines investigate and just bring it on. I rather suspect that if the old fable about animals talking at midnight on Christmas Eve is true, my girls woujld have a few things to say about why any human would bother to put fake birds in their tree instead of real ones, and ask why there are no live mice in catnip hung in their stockings hung on the mantle.

A bright Winter Solstice to all.