It’s that time of year—the season of fir and spruce and garland, light and scent and spirits. We plan and shop and bake, hang wreaths on our doors, and drag ornaments and stockings out of storage. And we decorate.

I’m in awe of people whose homes sparkle for the holidays. I always wonder how they know which decorations will glitter and beckon and appear as if they were meant to be where they are. There’s a gift to choosing and arranging I don’t have. Maybe because I didn’t grow up with it, or maybe I just don’t have that gene. I wish I knew.

My house always looks off during the holidays, no matter how carefully I study what others do. There never seems to be the right place for our candles; favorite nutcracker ornaments stand like cross, unruly sentries on the mantel, and two mismatched golden wire trees look as if they’re pining for company. Every year I consider buying more of them, imagining them surrounded by a gilded forest, but it feels frivolous somehow….

Then there’s the tree, and those fragile-footed birds placed into the same position on two branches as if they are about to kiss, without being close enough to do it. I wonder if they gossip when all the lights are out, or if they merely sigh and say, “Well, here we are again.”

Yes. Here we are.

And so, I wish you forests of good company to cheer you, and a season that sparkles with love, light, and the blessings of abundant joy and well-being.

Until 2020…


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