Feeling Silly

We got the Christmas tree up Saturday, and it's the best tree ever. We almost needed to get new strings of lights thanks to a blunder by yours truly, but someone caught the trouble before then.

I got the old lights out to discover that half of each strand didn't work. Rats. I wasn't about to take three hours or more trying fix them; lights are too cheap these days to warrant that much trouble. It turns out, as me son discovered, that what I thought were bundles of long light strings were in fact double bundles of shorter lengths, two light strings per set. When you found the other plug, those lights worked. 

I felt a bit silly. But it saved a trip to the store and let us get on with decorating, so all was well.

Christmas in August?

This is August, right? It is August? I want to ask and establish that up front.

I realize too that this has been a very odd year, so that perhaps the months don't mean so much this time around the calendar. But this is August, correct?

As I took my daily constitutional this morning I saw all kinds of bulk trash on the street curbs. Nothing special there: Friday is our trash pickup day here in Woodbridge, and every other Friday is bulk trash day. This is simply the other Friday.

However, what caught my attention was, not one, not two, not even only three, but four live Christmas trees (well, the remains of live trees I should say) set out for pickup. Okay, maybe one was not from Christmas. But the other three had the tree stands still attached to the trunks at the base. 

Were they left from Christmas in July festivities? One might suppose such. Yet two were so brown and dried out that I must imagine they were left about, perhaps in basements, since the real deal in December. 

So, Christmas in August? Did I miss the memo?

Understating Christmas

I made myself take my morning walk today. And when I say made myself, I mean it. It was cold out there folks.

But it was a good walk. The streets were quiet, and for whatever reason it was nice to see Christmas lights twinkling in the early morning. It made I thought an interesting juxtaposition from their appearances at night. They were more subtle. More sublime in fact.

Lately as I've went to sleep I've kept a small tree which my oldest son bought a few years back, next to my bed. I switch on its lights before climbing under the covers and doze off to its muted glow. Although I like the big tree in the living room, I find I like the small one equally.

Charlie actually bought quite a few of those baby trees, maybe a dozen, placing them all over the house that year, in windows and cubbies, and even in the basement, one by itself on a table over against an inside wall. I remember going downstairs greeted only by that softly lighted little fake evergreen. I found I was extremely happy to see it. I kind of hated turning on the regular lights; it spoiled the weak, tiny reminder of Christmas.

Power is one thing, subtlety another. I like the powerful, grand displays of Christmas. But at times the greatest power seems to come from the smaller things.

Merry Christmas everyone.