As nature prepares to receive the holiday season,

I ponder the subtle signs of winter’s pervasive presence.

Smoke emerging from warm winter chimneys

Wrestles wildly with the lively north wind

And rides the gusty waves across a sea of roof tops.

Naked trees with plaintive out-stretched arms

Reach fervently toward the sunless sky

As if praying for an early spring.

As I watched winter birds brace against the brisk north wind

And huddle under their winter blankets of fluffed feathers,

My reminiscent mind drifts into a quiet reverie

Back to a Christmas season lost in a half-century of silence,

Back to my childhood during the Great Depression.

Dimly, through the murky mists of the permanent past,

I see two busy little girls making Christmas decorations.

Faintly, through layers of sound compact,

I hear their excited laughter.

Emerging from the memory mist, I see a small frame house:

In the living room, a wood-burning stove and large round table

Where we made our home-made Christmas decorations.

I small that wonderful, old-time, Christmas fragrance:

A blend of cedar, apples, oranges, and peppermint

That mingled with the smell of burning wood.

We were poor then; poverty was our constant companion,

But using our meager resources and abundant imagination,

We made Christmas a very special time.

On Christmas Eve, my father took my sister and me

Deep in the virgin woods of pine, cedar, and oak

That covered the hills surrounding our tiny town

To cut boughs of Yaupon holly berries for Christmas wreaths,

And to find the perfect cedar Christmas tree

To stand stately in the front hall of our humble home.

While my father chopped down our chosen tree,

My sister and I searched the tall trees for mistletoe

To hand in the hallway just inside the front door

To tease the unsuspecting visitor with a kiss.

There was such excitement in our home that night

As we decorated our majestic Christmas tree

Will all of our beautiful Hand-made ornaments:

Colored construction paper chains and cut-out ornaments,

Popcorn strings, silvery sticks of gum and cut-out cookies

Tied with string loops to hang on the tree.

Colored apples and oranges were hung on the lower limbs.

To this, we added the candy canes that our dad bought

And topped the tree with an Angel made of silver paper.

As my sister and I snuggled together in bed that night

Under the warm feather comforter that our mother had made,

Our heads were filled with visions of our grand Christmas tree

Covered with all those good things to eat waiting for Santa Claus.

We arose at dawn on Christmas morning and scrambled

To find our home-made gifts under the tree.

Later, we would drive out to our grandparents’ farm

For a wonderful Christmas dinner and sweets unimagined.

To share the joy of Christmas with our many relatives.

Back home, our beautiful tree beckoned

To two starry-eyed little girls who would have such fun

Eating all the edible decorations off of the tree

Until the twelfth day of Christmas

© 1998 Eloise F. Teaff

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