Christmas at my house tends to hang around well after the festive season. Partly through benign neglect, and partly because I hate to see it go, I tend to "forget" that certain elements of decoration are still with us. Part of me thinks that there should be a little corner of one's life where it is Christmas Every Day!
Yesterday, I was startled to discover a spray of balsam still stuck into the frame of the living room mirror, so I took a look around to see what else might be lurking well past its due date. I threw out the mummified pomegranates and quinces that had been the mainstay of a tabletop display. I felt guilty about not eating them.
From the corner of my eye, I noted, but did nothing about, the shiny red cachepot and glass baubles decorating Alex's thriving potted palm. Here it is, February 1st, and there is still a wreath hanging on the wall above the television set, mainly because the golden poinsettias and pine cones go so well with the colour of the wall. I have no excuse for the giant pink mercury glass eggs dangling from the curtain rod, but you know...Easter IS coming.
Of course, ideally, it would be Christmas Every Day, Everywhere. And maybe it can be.
Funnily enough, I think it was best put by that quintessential Hollywood Cowgirl, Dale Evans;
“Christmas, my child, is love in action. Every time we love, every time we give, it's Christmas."
Works for me. Merry Christmas!