Those Greens Won’t Hang Themselves by Donna Cronk

 

There are not four but five seasons in my year. Nestled between the crisp Hoosier October and the icy winter chill of January is the holiday season.

     We’ve entered that annual period that is distinct from the other four. From Thanksgiving preparations on, there’s much to be done from parties to Christmas luncheons and gift exchanges with friends, relatives, and organizations we’re involved with.

     There are menus to plan, treats to make, Christmas plays and performances to watch live and on TV. There’s so much more besides.

     But first, at my house anyway, comes the whirlwind transition to Christmas décor.

     For a day or two, pumpkins and angels awkwardly share space as everything orange, yellow, and brown are put away, and the green swags come out, along with tabletop baubles, and at our house, two artificial Christmas trees. By the way, who started the rumor that artificial trees don’t shed?

     There are also wreaths for the front door, outdoor windows, and a pasture full of at least a hundred lambs—the decorative kind that go onto the dining room tree.

     Just a few weeks ago, I told myself that maybe this is the year I’ll stop getting myself swept away in this frenzy of activity. Maybe I will give up the nine-foot-tall artificial tree that takes a full day to assemble and trim. Or I’d skip the lamb tree for a season. No one would care, correct?

     Well, I would. Yet each year it feels a little harder to brace myself for the work involved.

     A nice pre-decorating snowfall is a wonderful attitude adjuster. Of course, I’ll dig out the decorations and put it all up. Naturally, I’ll go through every tub of décor and find places for most of it. I’ll think about how there’s just too much, and then I’ll buy more at one bazaar or three of them.

     I look into the future and envision the day when I’ll place a beautiful wreath on the front door and call it a day. But not yet.

     Turns out I’m not ready to give up anything about the special glow of swags draped around the entryway and staircase, and I can’t put the lambs out to permanent pasture.

     Since I’ve got all those wreaths for the outdoor windows, yes, I’ll just go ahead and put them up yet again.

     I don’t know why I feel compelled to quickly usher all the fall doodads into storage and get the Christmas things out, but I do. The decorating police won’t show up to make sure everything is in place.

     Still, I attack the whole of it as though it’s a military operation and I’m the general.

     Mom didn’t decorate my childhood home every year until around Dec. 10.  I used to nag her about when we were going to get out the colorful porch lights, tree ornaments, and tinsel swags.

     She felt as certain about waiting until we were well into December as I do about getting it all up and plugged in before the calendar flips to the twelfth month.

     It helps because I don’t go out to shop on Black Friday. I ignore that cultural phenomenon and spend the day working at home. And on Small Business Saturday, I’m all about the busyness of evenly distributing multiple strands of lights on the larger of our trees.

     After all, those greens aren’t going to hang themselves.

     For this weekend, I’m not thinking about gift-buying or menus, it’s all about making things pretty. The shopping and wrapping will all come in due time.

     The decorating process is not pretty. My house will look like, as my mother would have described, “a cyclone hit it.”

     I’ll gather all the tree ornaments from our parents and from 45 years of Brian's and my marriage. They’ll go onto the tree and the rest distributed throughout the house. And I’ll promise myself that I need to downsize this operation.

     But, of course come next year, there will be a day when a few snowflakes fall, and I’ll start dreaming of doing it all again.

     Pendleton resident Donna Cronk spent almost four decades on newspaper payrolls. In retirement she writes a column for three newspapers that deals with aging, family, and life. Her most recent book is her memoir, There’s A Clydesdale in the Attic: Reflections on Keeping and Letting Go, available on Amazon. Connect with Donna at newsgirl.1958@gmail.com.