More Trees And A Lille Juleaften Greeting

Today's post is really two posts in one.
The first -- a "fresh" post, continuing a little
showcase of some of the trees at That Old House.
The second -- a revised post from one year ago,
about this special day and its significance.
(Sorry, no recipes today as promised -- too much else to write about!)

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So . . . some trees!

In the Conservatory, the fresh Fraser Fir.

A little smaller than previous years' models, but we love it nonetheless!

Like all Christmas trees, an absolute bear to photograph.  Especially in daylight.

 So -- here is one somebody took Saturday night, at our party.
Yes, Christmas trees do look better at night!

The Feather Tree, always one of my favorites.

 Love those teeny ornaments.
I did buy more this year.  Don't rat me out.

By the kitchen sink, a little wiry brass tree
from daughter Anne brightens the backsplash.

In the powder room, a little tree in a Santa Boot

sports glass Santas and other tiny glass ornaments.  

In the dining room, a spiral tree awaits a few special ornaments.

(They're coming!  Be patient!)

Upstairs, on the second floor landing, a topiary tree.

No ornaments, just the lights; it's enough.

And in the Study, the Girls' Tree, with ornaments collected over the years.
This year, when Alida returns to California, she'll take her ornaments with her.

So if you think I go a little bonkers with trees and Christmas bling,

I come by it honestly.  I am of Norwegian descent,

and we Norwegians love us a good, long, celebratory Christmastime.

Ja, you betcha!
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(From December 23, 2010, with revisions for 2011.)

Norwegians, living as they do
in some pretty grim, dark and cold December weather in Norway, make the most of Christmas.

They even have a name for this day, the day

before Christmas Eve:  Lille Julaften.

Translation:  Little Christmas Eve.

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My mother and I always called one another on Lille Julaften.

We'd compare our Julekake, or Christmas bread,
and just spend some time away from the pre-Christmas-Eve whirlwind.

Reminiscing.  Catching up.  Making plans.  Comparing menus.

My mother believed it was okay to still be baking or cleaning on Lille Julaften;

by the next day, Christmas Eve, chores were to be finished so you would be in a
calm and serene state of mind, ready for that night's church services,
and ready to settle your children down with gentle words and quiet stories.

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I miss my mother very much today,
this second Christmas without her.

Last year, I visited my Dad on the afternoon of Lille Juleaften.
But now he, too, is among the people I miss at Christmas.

Family.  Not something to be taken lightly, or for granted.
We don't have one another forever, not on this Earth.

Now I've got some baking to do; there are only a few cookies left from last week,

and one mustn't greet Santa with stale cookies!
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As you prepare your home, your family, yourself for the coming of the Christ Child,
I wish you peace and serenity, despite any last minute rushing that might be part of your holiday
this year (as it is part of mine!).  Wrap those last few gifts, bake those last few batches of cookies,
settle down to read a cozy Christmas book with your children or grandchildren,
and know that whatever gets done, or does not get done, the Greatest Gift of all is yours.
And that is forever.

I wish you a

Glaedelig Lille Julaften!

-- Cass