Happy New Year!
Last week I finally got around to the post-Christmas decluttering (well, except for the fireplace mantle which still looks so fresh and pretty, I'm leaving it as is for winter). ANYWAY, our beautiful tree has been carried to the woods behind us still laden with the gingerbread cookie ornaments that I place on the tree every year (story for another post). I hope both the birds and squirrels enjoy our tree as much as we did.
Except for the mantle, decorations were moved to the basement and most everything was back to its usual place. So I thought. Yesterday morning, when I finally went through the accumulation of books and papers on the coffee table, I found a wooden tree puzzle beneath the Times. Later in the day, I found the Christmas pillow my daughter made in elementary school, and in the library, I found a small errant elf, wooden and without arms hiding behind the Christmas music on the piano. No matter how I try, some thing or things always escape my post-Christmas sweep.
Maybe that's a good thing. Why shouldn't good-will and cheer last more than a few weeks? Why should reminders of Christmases past, of people loved and children grown, lie stuffed in a blue plastic crate in the basement?
A few years ago, I decided to keep up a Santa I had cross-stitched years ago. Tender feelings of wonder, hope and love, I thought, should remain in our hearts year round.
I did bring the tree puzzle, child-stitched pillow and errant elf to the basement, but like the pine needles I won't find until June and the cross-stitched Santa who stays up year round, I am reminded that Christmas isn't something to be stuffed away. Wonder hope and love are gifts in every season!
Except for the mantle, decorations were moved to the basement and most everything was back to its usual place. So I thought. Yesterday morning, when I finally went through the accumulation of books and papers on the coffee table, I found a wooden tree puzzle beneath the Times. Later in the day, I found the Christmas pillow my daughter made in elementary school, and in the library, I found a small errant elf, wooden and without arms hiding behind the Christmas music on the piano. No matter how I try, some thing or things always escape my post-Christmas sweep.
Maybe that's a good thing. Why shouldn't good-will and cheer last more than a few weeks? Why should reminders of Christmases past, of people loved and children grown, lie stuffed in a blue plastic crate in the basement?
A few years ago, I decided to keep up a Santa I had cross-stitched years ago. Tender feelings of wonder, hope and love, I thought, should remain in our hearts year round.
I did bring the tree puzzle, child-stitched pillow and errant elf to the basement, but like the pine needles I won't find until June and the cross-stitched Santa who stays up year round, I am reminded that Christmas isn't something to be stuffed away. Wonder hope and love are gifts in every season!
May the unwrapped days of 2020 be kind to us all!
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