When you live in tiny apartments your whole adult life (and you spend most of the holidays in Toronto, and you don't tend to think about these things until mid-December), getting a tree seems a bit unnecessary.
But now firmly ensconced in our first house, we both really wanted to have one. I wanted that fresh smell of pine, the twinkling lights, the evenings of just gazing lovingly at our tree.
It's weird I know. But I really do it.
We decided on a small tree, as we didn't really have enough ornaments to make a big tree look festive. But as soon as we got it home, it felt wrong to have a tree smaller than me. I don't know why, but don't question it. Up on a table it went, with a mental note to make some ornaments and get a taller tree next year.
We actually really love the few ornaments we have. We have started buying ornaments on our travels when we remember, so we have great ones like this guy:
This is Askasleiker, one of the Icelandic Christmas lads. It means bowl licker. There are 13 of them, and in the days leading up to Christmas, they leave small gifts for children every night. We also bought Skyrgamur, who eats yogurt. Every time I pass the tree, I am fondly reminded of our time in Iceland, and the country's quirkiness. I wish I had grown up wanting a guy named Bowl Licker to leave me a present.
Our tree, when you get close enough, has a fun southwestern vibe to it. I think this is because my mother-in-law picks up ornaments in Arizona every year when she visits Andrew's sister. I think they're awesome.
I love Christmas!
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