I couldn't get far enough away from our extra-tall and full Christmas tree to get the whole thing in my camera's viewfinder, but I suppose that's for the best. We decorate with a hodgepodge of handmade and keepsake ornaments, so our tree usually ends up looking like a designer's nightmare.
...especially when we have, as we do this year, a "bendy," which is what my Number Two Son calls a tree that brushes the ceiling and makes it necessary for the handmade cardboard-and-tinfoil star on top to be pushed forward instead of standing straight up. We often end up with bendies because we go out to the country to choose and cut our own tree, and under the wide winter sky we tend to forget that our living room is not that big and our ceiling not that tall. My hunk o' burnin' love shortened this year's tree, measured it, and then shortened it again--but it's still a bendy. (Wouldn't you think an architect would be a little better at measuring things?)
This year we've switched to LED lights that are supposed to last for 20,000 hours, which means we can leave this tree up and lit for approximately 833 more days if we want. Or we can just reuse the lights for years and call them family heirlooms. I can see myself at 96, handing a pile of battered boxes to one of my descendants and saying in my sandpapery voice, "Now, you take good care of these, sweetheart. These were your great grandfather's Christmas lights."
My regular column is up today at Romancing the Blog. It's about one of my pet peeves in romance novels.