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Ringing out from pine to oak
This year, trimming the tree first involved combing out handfuls of dry oak leaves from the branches of our Fraser fir. I have no idea. Possibly I shouldn't have invoked Robert Holdstock this afternoon.
Have a lot of pictures.
Gelt. Someone must have played dreydl for it at some point, because I remember overhearing the rules being explained. Hershel of Ostropol still does the best job with that.
In his deep-frying saucepan where my brother dropped him, Great Cthulhu bubbles slightly.
The Christmas cactus is blooming for Christmas. It's as surprised as anybody.
This is the oldest ornament I own. It was given to me by my grandparents, who never celebrated Christmas or had a tree in their house: I was two months old and my parents were raising me as a both-ways child. It's the first ornament I hang on a tree.
Sculpture in the foreground by my grandmother: it's called "Send in the Clowns." Sculpture in the background by my father: I don't know that it has a name. Ornaments belonging to me and my brother: I'd forgotten about the touring car.
Some ornaments in their natural habitat.
The woman with the pomegranate.
The woman with the pomegranate if you forgot your 3D glasses.
I am incapable of not thinking of this ornament as an oracular pig.
Our tree contains both a Star of David and Robot Santa. I like my family.
I have trouble getting the flash to stay off on this camera. The results are occasionally a lot more ominous than I was going for.
I have no idea, but it's cute.
A gold-dipped skeletal leaf with the shadow of a dove cast on it. Somebody's symbolism, knock yourself out.
This is in fact a mouse made from wrapping paper. The fact that it looks like circuitry has always just further endeared it to me.
Finally, the tree lights came out.
The plum pudding is steaming.
Have a lot of pictures.
Gelt. Someone must have played dreydl for it at some point, because I remember overhearing the rules being explained. Hershel of Ostropol still does the best job with that.
In his deep-frying saucepan where my brother dropped him, Great Cthulhu bubbles slightly.
The Christmas cactus is blooming for Christmas. It's as surprised as anybody.
This is the oldest ornament I own. It was given to me by my grandparents, who never celebrated Christmas or had a tree in their house: I was two months old and my parents were raising me as a both-ways child. It's the first ornament I hang on a tree.
Sculpture in the foreground by my grandmother: it's called "Send in the Clowns." Sculpture in the background by my father: I don't know that it has a name. Ornaments belonging to me and my brother: I'd forgotten about the touring car.
Some ornaments in their natural habitat.
The woman with the pomegranate.
The woman with the pomegranate if you forgot your 3D glasses.
I am incapable of not thinking of this ornament as an oracular pig.
Our tree contains both a Star of David and Robot Santa. I like my family.
I have trouble getting the flash to stay off on this camera. The results are occasionally a lot more ominous than I was going for.
I have no idea, but it's cute.
A gold-dipped skeletal leaf with the shadow of a dove cast on it. Somebody's symbolism, knock yourself out.
This is in fact a mouse made from wrapping paper. The fact that it looks like circuitry has always just further endeared it to me.
Finally, the tree lights came out.
The plum pudding is steaming.
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She's my mother's: she's almost forty years old. She's made of cornhusks.
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Ours has always stayed in one piece, but the thread snapped years ago, so I just tuck it between soft branches and hang the angel over it. (I think of her as an angel, anyway. She's been one-winged as long as I can remember.)
We may have had the kid-on-a-rocking-horse too.
I don't know if they came as a pair, but I hang them as one. I have ornaments I never care where they go and ornaments that don't have to be on the tree at all and then I have ornaments I'll spend five minutes trying to place correctly, because I formed certain ideas about them when I was small and the glass dragon always needs to go in front of a light and the hobby-horse doesn't hang by its bridle and the sleeping child and the angel on the seahorse (because it didn't occur to me that it might just be a rocking-horse for years) are always together. And you can put the brightly colored zebra wherever, but its wire mane always needs to be smoothed down and bent into the proper curve, mostly denuded as it has been of tinsel over the years. I never thought of having my own tree when I grew up, but I find these are details I still observe.