We buy our Christmas tree in our charming village of Ladner. For a few short weeks a vacant lot is turned into a Christmas Tree wonderland. The ground is covered with cedar chips, the trees create a forest, and one can wander up and down the rows admiring and choosing the perfect tree.
We normally buy a nine foot tree, but this year I wanted a small tree. The one we chose looked rather like a ballerina, slender on top with bouffant branches for the skirt. Perfect!
Well, maybe not perfect, but every tree should be loved, and with lights and some glitter this tree will be beautiful.
The lights help bring the branches down. Now to decorate.
Ours is a Christmas tree of memories. The tree is graced with decorations collected over decades of Christmases . This celluloid doll, Hansel, adorned our Christmas Tree when I was a child. He has a sister, Gretal. She is on my sister’s Christmas Tree in Prince Albert. I think he misses her.
With each cherished decoration I hang on the tree, I am hanging a memory; vintage decorations from our darling Roxanne, a Santa made in kindergarten by our son Callum, whimsical carved animals from Biscuit, a tiny copper kettle from my Mom that hung on my very first Christmas more than fifty years ago.
The decorations are in place, and we are enjoying the evening. Charlie Brown’s Christmas music floats through our home. Baking husband is taking a tray of mince tarts out of the oven. The tree of memories is finished.