Becky and Al here, from Venice, Florida, writing by the glow of Christmas lights set on our window ledge. The five candle set-up is plastic, one of those cheap $8 electric candelabra from the seasonal aisle of Walgreen's. Inside the house, the candles are safe, clean burning, and disguised by the sheer curtains in front of them. Outside (we imagine), the band of lights are a traditional comfort for travelers look for a room at the inn.
Our first Florida Christmas tree was a cardboard and tissue paper palm purchased at a party store. It hung from the ceiling by a cup hook, gaily spinning in the breeze unless anchored by gift boxes. It was perfect with the beach chairs we'd assembled for living room seating--we were tourists in a weird and wacky world and hadn't quite found our sea legs. It was marvelously novel.
We're still tourists, in spite of the fact that we're Florida residents holding Florida driver's licenses. However, we're back to decorating the old-fashioned kind of Christmas tree for relatives who come south for the holidays. Here, trees are sold from bright striped tents that suddenly spring up after Thanksgiving.
This year, we're creating a hybrid Christmas tree--crossing an evergreen with an orange tree. At the moment, citrus trees are heavy with ripening orbs that resemble round ornaments dangling from the ends of Christmas tree branches. This year, we'll dangle ornaments as if they were oranges and set a few on the floor as if they'd dropped from the tree. A beach towel for a tree skirt, perhaps. The mind hums with decorating possibilities.
Hunter is coming to decorate the tree. Nana started at the top but promises to hold off on the bottom two-thirds until he gets here. He'll be hanging emptied single-service Tropicana cartons by red ribbons, tying up key limes, clementines, and tangerines in squares of netting recouped from the produce bags they came in, and fastening peppermint canes on boughs with KMart bows. If that isn't enough, he'll layer the evergreen branches with lemon leaf stems.
Hurry, Hunter...empty branches are waiting. And, hurry, Blake...Grandpa Al is getting out the Christmas games.
