It's Christmas time...

Christmas time has come to our wee family's house. I have been working hard the last week to get our decorations up and boxes put away. Our tree this year is not Fat Charley, but Ereth Sappy, named after Ereth the Porcupine from the book Poppy. Ereth is sappy, we got sap all over us on the way home, and Ereth is prickly-but not dry. Mums, BubbaLou, and I decided on his name on the way home from finding him.

We thought that finding a new tree would be a chore. I mean, we all came to have a special place in our hearts for Fat Charley. It turned out to be really easy and quick. BubbaLou picked him out in about five minutes and bonded with him right away.

We got Ereth home and couldn't find the stand. So he stood out on the carport in a bucket of water until Popsaroo got home and found the stand. We stood him up, buckled him in, and filled up his water trough. Then we didn't get back to him except to water him for a couple of days-we were busy celebrating BubbaLou's birthday.

Finally, we got around to decorating him. I have a strange sort of theme, I don't really have one. I have a mix of ornaments that I painted when Popsaroo and I got married back almost 19 years ago, most of them or assorted little woodland critters. I also have a collection of ornaments that I have found in antique stores and at yard sales and then I have ones that have been given to me.

The santas on the bell is one that I painted after Popsaroo and I got married. The vintage angel is one of four instrument playing angels(I even have the original box) I found at an estate sale-I think.

The Mary and baby Jesus are part of an entire Nativity set that is hanging around the tree. I got them from our Global Impact Conference at Church. A missionary was selling these as part of World Crafts. The money goes to help support the women that made them.

This was one of my finds last year at a Christmas store or sorts. Every thing was on sale and it was just exciting:) He is my Irish Leprechaun Santa.

What usually happens when you uncover your real past to strangers? You show, for instance, to your neighbor a photograph of the old farmhouse where you were born. When you look at it you can smell the clover in the fields, you hear the cows lowing, you know that your mother is weeding in the garden yonder. You see yourself and Jack-two big, freckled boys, leaning from that attic window at night planning your lives out in the world, full of fighting and glory...

...All of these things are in that photograph for you. But your neighbor sees in it only a common frame house and barn that need repair badly....

~Some Old-Time Christmases

by Rebecca Harding Davis