Last year, we didn't really go all out for Christmas. Lots of reasons - like a crawling baby - meant that we decided to skip having a tree altogether. This year, that crawling baby is now a very curious toddler, but one that understands what she's not supposed to be trashing. Sometimes.
A couple of days ago, we got ourselves a Christmas tree, and our apartment now smells like piece of heaven, via Oregon. I love it, because we have such happy memories of our visit there last year.
The hippy in me is very pleased with our almost-six-feet-tall purchase, and I'd forgotten how lovely it is to have a real tree - in this case, a beautiful Douglas Fir. So American, yes?
We don't actually have many decorations on it at the moment (a hangover from last year's Big Move), and I need to buy more. It doesn't bother me, though. I'm not a fan of over-the-top Christmas style - I like to be able to see the actual foliage.
Until I get around to buying some more decorations, this is how the tree looks. Not bad (although there is a concentration of red baubles in one area, at Faery-height). The little girls nearby ain't bad to look at, either...