Christmas tree reflections.

We put our Christmas tree up the other day.  Every year I promise myself that it will go up at the beginning of Advent, but it never seems to work out that way.  Anyway, we managed to make it happen.  It is an artificial tree, but it has been part of the family for so many years - about 20 I think, and it is still looking good.  It will see many more Christmases yet.
James was so excited to see the tree and all the bags and boxes of decorations come down from that mysterious hole in the ceiling.  He ran around, pulling out decorations, exclaiming "Oh - do you remember this lovely thing - and this?"   Of course he wanted to hang the decorations on by himself, so I managed to suppress my perfectionist designer urges, and just go with the joy (at least until he is not around to see me surreptitiously move them around)

Over the years, like most families, we have amassed quite a collection of tree decorations, some tacky, some glamorous, some handmade, and all cherished. - I can recall where each one came from, and many have little stories that we remember each year. This rather dishevelled angel was one of the very first things I bought for my very first tree.  We keep trying to fix her hair, but she resists our efforts.The little woolen figure was made by Kristine when she was younger, and every face she drew looked like that. It makes me smile each year.  I also love the knitted Santa, that I bought when I worked in a Stroke unit. One of the relatives made them and sold them to raise funds for the ward. I think of those patients and their families, and wonder how they all fared - their lives turned upside down in the blink of an eye. 

One year I bought a set of beautiful jeweled fruit from a garden centre that was closing down - 2 apples and 2 pears.  They are so heavy, but I love how they sparkle and shine.  I also remember, from the same shop, but the year before, loving these delicate clear glass balls, they look like bubbles and reflect the light so beautifully.  Sadly I only have one left now.  The golden deer was purchased from yet another garden centre, on one of my last jaunts out with my Mother. It was one of our favourite lunch spots, and afterwards we enjoyed browsing around, and watching the amazing number of birds that flocked to the bird feeders. A trip before Christmas was always obligatory to see the seasonal displays.

The shiny pink fir cone is part of an unmatched set bought one Summer afternoon in a Paris flea market. As far away from Christmas as you can get, really, but what lovely romantic memories they hold.
When my elder daughter was very small, we visited a former colleague of mine one Christmas, and as we were leaving she asked Karen if she would like to chose something from her tree to put on hers.  She chose this little red stocking.  The years passed, we moved on to other jobs, our roads diverged, and we lost touch, but I still think of her every year as I place the little piece of felt on the tree.

It is not just the decorations themselves that stir the memories.  The boxes they are stored in have their own stories too.  This cheerful box, which now stores glass baubles, was originally a Diwali present from a former colleague of my husband.  I can still taste those sweet mangoes - they were, just as the lid says.  I love to see this sunny, brightly coloured box, as much as the glittering decorations it now contains.

It is more than just tinseled trinkets that hang on those branches - our lives dangle there too. As I decide where to put our disheveled Angel, am I the same woman who first wondered that 30 odd years ago? How have I changed? What has remained the same?   I am reflected in the windows, and on the shiny baubles, along with the coloured lights, so this is a good time to look at that image in the glass, and turn inward to see if it matches up to the person I am inside. As we head towards the Winter Solstice, these memories and reflections blaze out,alongside the Christmas tree but we need the darkness in order to really see them clearly.
Solstice blessings to all.