Globs of Glittering Houses

Nearly every December since my early twenties, I've had a tree trimming party. Everyone invited was asked to bring an ornament. Now I'm 57 and I had to stop the ornament tradition as the trees just couldn't handle the ridiculous amount of ornaments I'd collected! You see, I don't buy those sturdy, stiff-branched commercial trees. I go out on my land and cut a tree that looks great in the woods, haul it home then frown at how puny it looks in my house. Then I laugh. The lack of branches actually allows you to see the ornaments better. This year I thought about trying to dig up the roots too, gradually bringing it indoors so it would survive the heat inside, then replanting it in the spring. Maybe next year. I know it's okay to cut down a tree in a populated forest because the trees around it often need some breathing room. Foresters have educated me.

Back to the ornaments. And why I love my tree so much. Every ornament on the tree has meaning. If I don't connect a memory to an ornament, it's a goner. I have my dear friend Kathy to thank for also remembering, especially all the ornaments SHE gave me. Cactus from Arizona, a telephone because we don't live close, ornaments from trips we took together. Her daughter began giving me ornaments, too, a beautiful fish, a jointed clown. I have an ancient fish that was my grandmother's, a red & green Star of David from Myriam who trimmed her first tree with me, the leather boot Jill made, the luscious fish from my brother, the clothespin droopy-boobed Playboy Bunny from my 80 year-old neighbor, Tracy's birch bark We-Know-Not canoe and the ridiculous collaged ponytail barrettes we made and thought we could sell. Needlepointed squares made by my late father and those from my mom that highlighted whatever was up in my life that year. Beth's pool table and a tree made of fused Mardi Gras beads, a project I did with 2nd graders when I was student teaching in New Orleans. There's Bill and Patty's maple syrup bottle, Dennis' turkey caller, the tap from a Genesee keg, Brenda's Red-Rum bear, Jane's handmade tiny pack basket, the God's Eye from the cook that was always chewing garlic. And so many more.

I have an ornament that was my favorite when I was a little girl. It was a little magical house that absolutely thrilled me. Ten years ago when I asked my father if I could have it, he said "Of course." I was so surprised when I saw it - a very plain cardboard house that happened to be covered in glitter with a couple of marker lines hinting at windows and a door. How jaded my vision has become! Picasso once said he spent his entire life trying to get back the eyes of a child. Boy, do I get that. So now when I look at this house, I can step briefly into the past, loving the feeling of how incredible that little glitter house looked to me as a child. Christmas through the eyes of a child - what magic.

So thank you to all of you who gave me ornaments over all these long years. My tree is a tribute to the magnificent friends and family I am so grateful to have. Ya know,  I have new friends and now I wish I'd asked them to bring an ornament. Next year. Better look for a bigger tree. In the woods, of course.