It all starts off at the Tree Gulag, where captive conifers languish beneath the harsh glare of sodium arc lights. There they are, lined up for inspection and roll call as you stride along wondering at their short and spindly aspect. But we found one that seemed to have potential and took it home.
First things first, wrangle the liberated fir into a stand and move back to ponder it's bizarrely potbellied shape. Then put as many lights on the thing as it'll bear, around a 1000+ for a small tree like this. You may have a different method and that's OK, there's no system.
Lights on, get the Angel up and ask yourself why this one from Germany holds a scroll of plainsong notation proclaiming "Agnus Dei qui tollis peccata mundi." Gloria in excelsis Deo!, surely.
Leaving aside the hint of oddly wry Tuetonic humor, start decorating the tree and if you're me, recall Christmases past when you've done the very same thing with the very same ornaments stretching back into childhood.
Nostalgic, but of course some decorations get "old, tired, pathetic and depressing. Look, here's a plastic bag, throw it away." Thus spake Ma LSP, and she's right, what's the point of holding on to some piece of broken rubbish just because you've had it forever?
That in mind, some ornaments are better than others, which goes without saying, and you admire them the most, they inspire and uplift. Then it's done, an Advent miracle, the tree's lit up, the ornaments gleam, glint and sparkle and all's well in a raucously Victorian Christmas tree kind of way.
Well done, mission accomplished, pour yourself a glass of the right stuff. Maybe, for you, that's cocoa, a onesie and a frothing pumpkin latte, maybe it's something more fortifying. Your call.
Cheers and God bless,
LSP
