Today is mostly sunny with a blue sky and a few clouds. Today is also cold, 32°, but it is winter and mid-December. At least there is no wind. My tree is coming inside. My boxes of decorations are up from the cellar, but I still need to carry up part of the tree stand and the box of tree lights. I think that will make a total of nine or ten trips up and down the stairs. I need a Sherpa.

When I was a kid, decorating the tree was my favorite Christmas tradition. We each had our parts. My dad brought in the tree and secured it in the tree stand. He put on the lights but only after untangling all the strands. He was not a patient man when it came to puzzles like Christmas tree lights. The rest of us were the decorators. My mother was tasked with putting the garlands on the tree. They were made of foil and were different colors. We had red and green and silver and a few odds ones with colored beads. Her next task was to place the large ornaments at the top of the tree away from danger. After that we all decorated. Our heights determined where we put the ornaments. My sisters filled the lower branches, my brother and I the middle and my mother the top. My father watched. His jobs were done.

Last to go on the tree were the controversial icicles. Other than my mother, we usually tried to toss the icicles in bunches on the branches. We were tired by the time it came to icicles. Putting them, one at time, on the ends of the branches seemed an endless task. My mother would take the bunches off the tree and place them one a time. Every year she told us the same thing. They are supposed to look like real icicles, like the ones which hung down from the eaves of the house. We did that for a while, tired of it and let my mother do the rest.

I remember the finished tree. It was covered in colored lights, the shining garlands and all the different ornaments. When I would stand back to take it all in, I was filled with awe. It was the most beautiful tree.

When I decorate today, my heart will be filled with all those memories. I will stand back and still be filled with awe.

The morning is pretty but cold, the low 30’s. The high for the day won’t be much better. It is a bundle up day.

I have just about finished decorating. Last will be the tree I bought yesterday. It sits outside in a bucket filled with water. Before it goes up, I need to move furniture and bring up my tree stand from the cellar. That will probably be tomorrow.

Nala has sunk to new depths. Yesterday I heard her drop something substantial so I went to check. She picked up the unknown object and ran out the dog door, her acknowledgement of guilt. I followed. She saw me and ran to back of the yard. I have learned to ignore her and check later. When I went to check, I found a wiseman from my old nativity set. I also found a lamb. That dog has no respect.

When I was a kid, I never really minded winter. I walked to and from school every day no matter how cold. My mother made sure no bit of cold air could penetrate the bundling. On the coldest days I wore ski pants under my skirt. It wasn’t the best fashion choice, but it was warm.

We went to see Santa Claus. I remember being in the line at Jordan Marsh. It was always long. Jordan’s had the best Santa. He looked exactly the way I expected. We never minded the wait to get to Santa because the Enchanted Village was along the walk. The village had amazing scenes of houses and shops and snow and sledding. It was animated and every scene was elaborate. It was, I learned later, Victorian. In the inside scenes, the rooms were dressed for the holiday. Families were dressed in their finery. The women and girls wore long dresses. Boys sometimes wore sailor suits while men wore jackets and ties. Outside the people wore coats, and the little girls’ coats were elaborately embroidered. Boys wore hats with flaps. Girls wore round hats sometimes with flowers. The shops were filled with goods. I remember the pies in the bakery, the ice cream in the shop and the toys for sale in the windows.

We were filled with wonder.