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When I was a little girl, my family put up a tree a couple weeks before Christmas. Every year we put it in the southwest corner of the living room. There was no insentive for it to be in the front window, because our house was a quarter mile away from the main road. I'm trying to think where we got our Christmas trees, but daddy most likely cut a cedar tree from along a fence line.
The strings of lights we draped on the skinny branches back then were big red, green, blue and yellow bulbs. It seemed we were always replacing them. Sometimes we didn't have extra bulbs, so they just didn't light up. Mom kept the glass ornaments in a box with cardboard dividers, and experience taught us to be very careful with them. They'd break into smithereens when they hit our linoleum floor. We saved the silver strips of tinsel and reused it year after year. Depending who hung the tinsel, it either hung like icicles or in funny clumps. That fussy kind of stuff didn't matter to me back then. I was just so excited to have a real tree in the house.
This ceramic tree came to live with us soon after we were married. It was hand-painted, winds up and twinkles "Oh, Come All Ye Faithful." Precious.
I see snow flurries...wouldn't be surprised to see a change in the weather. Our feathered weather forecasters are busier than normal at their feeders. After all, it is December and time for the angels to shake out their pillows and let the feathers drop to comfort the Earth.
Be cozy. Ta-ta.