Here are some pictures of our Christmas tree. We went last week to choose it and cut it down. The man who owns the land always has stories to tell from his fascinating life; he has a lucky dip for all the children, a fire to warm up around, and mulled wine for the adults (I never have any as I’m always driving).
It’s a wonderful experience in itself, and has firmly become one of our Christmas traditions. The choosing of the tree takes a while, and then Rhythm Dude cut it down, and we all hauled it into the back of our van.
A few days later HWH and the boys did the difficult job of securing it in a pot, and then we all decorated it. I love this family activity, but it’s amazing how often it can slip into a meltdown from one of the kids. I guess it’s the excitement and high expectations. But this year it was all remarkably peaceful; maybe the Christmas music helped. And it does look lovely.
A few years ago, we learnt about Victorian Christmases and made lots of decorations. The tree looked so pretty, we’ve kept them, and added a few more homemade ones each year. I love to sit by it in the evenings, with only the tree lights and the fire for light. Many of the ornaments hold memories, of Christmases past, and remind me yet again of Gods faithfulness to us over the years.
Mothering through the seasons 