“Blessed is the season which engages the whole world in a conspiracy of love.”
– Hamilton Wright Mabie
The Christmas lights in our village float across the main street, along with the church’s facade and around the baker’s window. The season of expectation is upon us—or at least that is how I think of it. I remember the feeling I had as a child: aching anticipation, an undeniable feeling in the air, longing, hoping that the biggest present under the tree was for me.
Christmas songs, the stockings, the lights flickering at night, the smell of the pine tree, and my mom making popcorn balls.
Years ago, at a brocante, I found a Christmas music box. It was round, with pine trees, deer, and a little boy in a green jacket. It enchanted me, though it was more than I wanted to spend. I walked around and around, constantly finding myself in front of the stand with the music box. I ended up buying it; I’ve never regretted it.
And the Christmas songs. Nothing sounded as wonderful as hearing Christmas carols in English until Chelsea and Sacha started singing Christmas songs in French… Oh, my.
One year, while I was putting up our Christmas tree, Sacha, who was seven or eight then, commented that our red and green decorated Christmas tree didn’t go with our house. He was right. Our home was more neutral colors. I had always thought that Christmas had to be red and green. My childhood memory held it to be true. However, the next year and the years to follow Sacha’s comment allowed me to decorate Christmas differently: Christmas wasn’t restricted to red and green.
Turn-of-the-century metal Christmas tree candle holders. However, if you want a candlelight dinner, attach one to the rim of your dinner plate.
Wouldn’t that add a spark to your next dinner party?
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