oh Christmas tree

This morning my dear husband brought our tree in from the garage to defrost. Decorating will happen on Christmas Eve, but meanwhile it stands ready and waiting. I came downstairs to the wonderful fragrance of balsam and felt filled, actually, with awe.

Living in the north of North America has given me a new appreciation of conifers. In South Africa, pine trees are not indigenous -- with the possible exception of umbrella pines. Pine trees are grown commercially and what we bought as Christmas trees were branches cut off from the tree. Pretty straggly they were, too.

But here I live with the spectrum of firs and pines and admire their beauty all year round, the branches stretched outward, or heavenward, or dipping in reverence to the earth. Bringing the tree in is a much larger event than it was in southern climes. I know the shape has been trimmed, the tree manipulated to be pleasing and to meet our expectations. Nevertheless, our Christmas tree, even without ornament, is surely a thing of beauty and will bring us much joy over the coming holy days and nights.

Snow, snow snow

Well, isn't that interesting? This is supposed to be the busiest shopping weekend in the run up to Christmas and here we are in the middle of a severe winter storm. So hibernating at home is more likely to be on the agenda than hitting the stores.

I think it's been good, having all this snow in December. How beautiful it is to see the silvery hoar frost, as I did last Tuesday. Yes, I know and remember particularly from the days when I lived in London, England, snow on city streets can be slushy and dirty and generally a nuisance. But even in the city the sight of trees embellished with white and the soft blanket covering the grassy parts of parks and so on can be quite lovely.

Snow has a softening effect, rounding off square and sharp edges and corners... and then there's the quiet. It's like the perfect antidote to the endless stream of Christmas music. These are the reasons why to me the snow this December has been a blessing. It has brought a certain peace to my heart and much beauty on which to rest my eyes.

Ah Advent

Here we are, already well into Advent, the season of anticipation. Yes, Christmas lies ahead, but these weeks leading up to the Holy Days and Nights have their own special magic. I first started to wake up to this years ago when I visited a friend in Germany towards the end of November. So I learned about Advent calendars, and transforming the house by bringing out such things as special Christmassy cloths for the children's bedside tables, lighting candles in the evening and so on.

One of the best traditions we ever had as a family was to play a version of Chris Kringle. This meant that we wrote the six names -- Mom and Dad and four children -- on pieces of paper, and each chose one out of Grandpa's bowler hat. If you got your own name, you had to try again. Then you kept the secret, and did some small, thoughtful deed for that person each day till Christmas, when you'd all guess who'd been your 'Chris Kringle'.

One year I got my dear husband, and wow, wasn't that an amazing exercise, finding deeds to surprise him with, and a different one every day. Sometimes, this was as small as baiting his toothbrush with paste. As in most exercises of this nature, the giver is usually the one who gains the most, and that's what I found.

The first memory I have of an Advent experience was when I'd just started high school. Along with my older cousin, I attended an Anglican church school run by 'sisters', although the apartheid government soon stopped allowing the nuns into the country. The high school was rather reminiscent of a cloister, being built around a quadrangle. For the celebration, the choir assembled on the upper storey and processed down to the chapel singing 'O Come, O Come Emmanuel'. It's a sight and sound I carry with me to this day.