This year I thought I might not bother with a Christmas tree. When I was a kid, the very idea of even settling for a plastic tree seemed appalling... whats Christmas without the scent of pine needles?
But I will be honest, I'm having problems getting into the whole Christmas spirit this year. It's not that I don't love the festive period coz I do! I love the lights, the decorations, the excitement. But there are so many other things that mean Christmas to me that are missing. Ice skating, snow, dark nights snuggled up singing carols with the family, counting Christmas trees sparkling in peoples windows as you wander through the dark, crisp evening air.
You get the idea.... to me Christmas is just so.... seasonal! It doesn't belong now, here, in the 35 degree heat. My body just isn't digging it so my brain can't either.
But then. Last night. With 10 Min's left on the roast chicken, on a whim, I set the timer, jumped in the car, drove just down the track, cut down a baby pine from the bush and was back, tree in pot in the living room just as the timer bell rang.
No, I'm not sure what prompted that bit of crazy tree cutting action either. But to celebrate my childish whimsy, I made some space-invader style canned spaghetti and potato gems to go with the roast, and spent the rest of the night making paper chains out of story books. All the while pretending that outside, the grass was silver with frost, the night clear and moon-lit and my breath was hanging in small cloud-like puffs in the air. Merry Christmas.