It is officially the time of year when I loose my natural distaste for useless decorations and embrace this wintry season. December has always been my favorite, and though I've never been one to collect boxes of holiday decor or display tchotchkes (be they festive or not), I am always eager to embrace all things cozy and merry this time of year.
I have memories of the decorations my mother use to to pull out each December: sets of glass mugs printed with holly and ivy, bright red bows dotting the garland that wound its way up our staircase, a wooden nativity scene that always seemed to get knocked over. Gingerbread houses and paper snowflakes, wreaths on each door and candles in each window. Our traditions grew much simpler once we began to celebrate each season in Uganda, and that is perhaps why, as an adult, I have never felt the need (or desire) to deck our halls with anything more than a few sprigs of holly.
We bought a small fir tree on Saturday and wound it with strings of twinkling white lights. I arranged the remnants of clipped branches along the mantle, and our simple wreath has already been hung on the door. Season's Greetings from us to you, but that's about as festive as we get.
I wonder if, one day, when we have children, I will feel a greater need to infuse this home with bright colors and classic traditions. Ribbons and snowflakes, glitter and tinsel. Grander displays of child-like holiday cheer and fewer foraged branches with prickly pine cones.
Time will tell, I suppose.
For now, we are tucked between layers of thick cardigans and wool socks, staring through fogged glass at fresh December snow. And really, such fluff is truly the best holiday decoration of all.