A Man For One Season

Frosty was one cool dude, truly A Man For One Season, and his worthy kin populate That Old House at the holidays, and beyond. I don't put the Snowmen away with the other Christmas bling; they hang around till Ground Hog Day. I think of them as winter decorations, along with jingle bells and an old sled propped up by the door.

Some of our Snowmen are waiting in the dining room for their assignments, blinking in the bright light, having been hauled out of their dark Rubbermaid caves over the weekend.

This morning they agreed to pose on a green tree skirt for some glamour shots
for Mosaic Monday -- hosted by Mary at Little Red House. (Go peek!)

Second picture down, upper left corner -- a small handcrafted snowman is missing the end of his little shovel, because it was chewed off 10 years ago by then-puppy Dion, who also that year ate my prize-winning gingerbread house, and jumped into a box of broken glass tree ornaments and ate them too. It is not only cats who have 9 lives.

***********************************************************************

This guy, below, got in line with the Snowmen, so I took his picture even
though he is a Father Christmas, hand carved by my brother in 1991.

It is pure luck that we have him still today, and I'll tell you why tomorrow.

He is a treasure.

"KL" is for my brother. "EL" and "ML" are his kids' initials; they assisted in the painting.

********************************************************************

I love fresh greens in the house at the holidays:

Look! It's a rustic holiday seat cover!

Okay, I'm just kidding.
Even the biggest fans of the primitive or rustic looks wouldn't do that.

But does anyone else remember two or three years back, one of the country
decorating magazines had a Christmas tree in its pages that was a leafless
dead branch stuck in a bucket, hung with the plain lids of tin soup cans on loops of string?
Depression chic, I guess.

I remember thinking, "Somebody lost a bet in that editorial meeting."

Meanwhile, Howard finished assembling the faux Christmas tree in the Parlor yesterday, and now, before I can decorate it, I have to wriggle the branches around till they fill in the gaps, and then straighten and fluff every last stinkin' twig of plastic needles -- whoever said that artificial trees are easier than fresh lied.

Howard and I are also debating where the tree should be plugged in,
so as to camouflage the wiring. He likes the wires where they are.
Stay tuned, this could get interesting.

We're putting a fresh tree in the conservatory; before that can happen,
my dear husband has to take down the existing chandelier to make room.

Howard just loves the holidays. I better bake some cookies, eh? Come back
tomorrow for a story of loss and great gain, of kindness and friendship -- a wonderful Christmas tale. -- Cass