Deck the Halls
Castor's Beth Elhard shares her family's magical (and sometimes messy) Christmas memories
Every year at the start of the Christmas season, I go into the deep confines of our basement and begin pulling out boxes of decorations. Like a seasoned dumpster diver, I emerge with sprigs of holly up my nostrils and mistletoe where you wouldn’t want to kiss!
Out comes the tree with its color-coded branches. No matter how many times I put the branches in the color-coded holes, the tree comes out looking like pine beetles and spruce bud worms have had a turf war.
One year, the tree got put into its stand and stood naked for a week or two before anyone had time to decorate it. During that period, one little grandson came and went a few times, each time eyeing the tree. After several trips, he stood with his hands on his hips and said in a little voice of outrage, “You know Nana, at our house we put things on our tree!”
One time I circled the tree with a train set, like they do in the movies. When I turned it on for a practice run, it went berserk, left the tracks and climbed the tree. Bulbs flew and garland trailed behind the caboose while it chased me across the floor! I was so traumatized that I still can’t watch The Polar Express.
We didn’t always decorate an imitation tree. Years ago, we’d go frolicking off to the forest to get our tree (no mean feat in a prairie area). Young and naive, I envisioned how our family would joyfully gather around the tree, sipping hot chocolate and listening to Christmas carols as we decorated. The children would be perfectly behaved and smiling, while my husband and I would revel in wedded bliss.
Like I said, I was young and naive.
Here’s what actually happened: We’d return home with the tree and my husband would carefully lay out the string of Christmas lights and plug them in to see which ones needed to be replaced. In the meantime, the children would get bored while waiting to decorate. Then, they’d begin to wrestle. Strands of wire would entangle under their feet and bulbs would shatter as we separated the all-star wrestlers. The tree, nervous, would shed its needles.
Next came the decorations. The right-brain part of me wanted to gently place each ornament and icicle on the tree with perfect precision. The rest of the family preferred a more left-brained approach: stand back and throw decorations at the tree like darts at a dartboard. The ornaments would all gather on one side, causing the tree to lean perilously throughout the holidays.
Each year I trot out the Christmas village and look to the beautiful villages on Pinterest for inspiration. But try as I do, my village always looks like it should have a state of emergency declared! When the grandchildren were little, they loved the Christmas village. They would lay on the floor arranging their little toys and the buildings. I’d find farm equipment toys wedged among the delicate porcelain and cattle grazing in front of the buildings. It was magical. I loved it. I miss those days.
There is more to Christmas than decorating, of course. For me, it’s a celebration of faith, of family and of friends. It is truly the most wonderful time of the year.
Wishing you a Merry Christmas and a very happy New Year.
- Beth
About Beth:
Beth Elhard is a writer, farmer’s wife, mother and grandmother of five grandsons, and was a school librarian for eighteen years. She is an avid reader, church and choir member, volunteer, sports fan, aqua sizer, exerciser (not so much) and believes in giving back to her community. She enjoys spending time with family and friends.
Born (1941) and raised in Castor, Alberta, she and her husband Richard lived on the farm for thirty years and have lived in Castor for twenty-six years. Beth says, “We have had the best of both worlds – rural and urban.”
Beth’s column, “Wildoats and Roses,” was published regularly in Grainews and The Castor Advance. She was the editor of Castor’s history book, Beaver Tales from Castor & District, in 2012.
