taking down the tree

Early January is a sad time of year (aside from a very big day next week, that is). Christmas is over, the gifts have been given, our dietary habits are more moderate, and I cannot play carols again until October. And as is our custom, the first weekend after New Year's Day we take down the tree. So it is tonight. It kills me a little inside.

Oh, sure, it was a sunny and lovely day out. A decent swim. Some tidying around the house. The fragrance of the chicken stock I spent the afternoon making in the kitchen. We're re-claiming our living room! Still, it's a melancholy evening in a way, and here I sit, deliberately drawing it out by blogging it.

Setting up the tree was odd and different this year. We set aside a the first Sunday in December (as opposed to American Thanksgiving weekend) to do the tree ourselves. No one helping. I can't even recall what I cooked or if we might have ordered in. One big tree in the corner, and a small feather tree on the dining table.

A little closer to Christmas we had those who might have been our recruits over for a nice meal: some curry turkey pot pies, biscotti, a steamed pumpkin pudding.
No work on the tree, just enjoying it and the other bits of holiday decor.


A fine night. There were too few of those this past Christmas.

And now it comes down. We started prepping the apartment before dinner, and then Conrad went to get the boxes from storage. A dinner of a chicken tortilla soup in us,
and now we're at it. I refuse to play Christmas music, however. Better to get this done and get back to the normalcy of the rest of the winter in the apartment.

I sound bitter, I think. Sorry for that. I do love Christmas, it's well known. Ah well. 9 months until the music comes creeping back into my playlists, and for sure, I'll be on the lookout for good gifts well before then.