Christmas Eve and we are still virtually decorationless (except for the Cranberry soap and the Christmas cards on the mantle) and quite positively treeless. Perhaps it’s just as well. Jeff Hutchison, my favorite Canada AM weatherman (as opposed to Sylvia Kuzyk and that turncoat “Captain” John Sauder, my former favorite pair of CTV Winnipeg meteorologists), recently displayed a few pictures sent in by cat owners of their pets firmly ensconced in Christmas trees. I shudder to think.
Also, it gave me pause to think when a friend inquired about the spiritual significance of Christmas trees: there’s nothing of which I’m aware. Dan Gardner of the Citizen (a crotchety, self-acknowledged atheist) attributes it to the Norse, but Wikipedia suggests the Christmas tree is a more convoluted tradition. All I know is that I was 10 years old before we got a Christmas tree, and it was terribly exciting to see the end product, assembled and covered in lights, garland, and tinsel (back when tinsel was the last word in decorating). Even tonight I walked around the neighborhood, and seeing each lit tree produced a shivery thrill of delight. However, I’ve always felt miserably saddened when taking down the tree, so it’s just as well that I don’t have that task to weigh me down. Besides, where would I store it?! I’m forever trying to cut down on “stuff.”
Still, if I get really, really brave, or really, really motivated, I might venture out on Boxing Day, to scope out the sales. Of course, I’ve said that many years in a row, and have yet to act on it. The crush of shoppers on the lookout for deals in the wee hours of the early morning proves a temptation not strong enough to lure me out of my slumber come Dec 26.
So...Merry Christmas to all, and to all, a good night!
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