My husband just brought it to my attention that I still have remnants of Christmas all over the downstairs living areas. Wow! I’d gotten so used to them being there and they fit in with the décor so well that they’d grown on me. (Love those bowls of ornaments and the silver ornaments around the powder room lights)
Hubby reminded me about homes we’d visited, long after the season was over, where the wreaths had browned and dropped needles all over the carpet; the poinsettia leaves had curled up and threatened to fall off if we stared at them too hard.
On the other hand, I’ve been to homes in July where the pine spray seemed so real you could cry; the statues of life-sized elves appeared startlingly as real as the over-sized Santa sitting in a resplendent, reindeer driven sleigh. Overdone? Not at all. With the Christmas music playing in the background, it was a thing of beauty!
In a world going mad with rules and laws—prohibitive language, unfair practices, and other forms of sadness and madness, can’t we just have Christmas?
Since I don’t live in la-la land, I will take the rest of the holiday down and pack it away, because we did just welcome daylight savings time yesterday (albeit reluctantly), and that’s a sure sign that Spring and summer are around the corner.
I’m leaving the Thanksgiving pillow. I’ve grown attached to it.