This year's tree may just be the best yet. It's a lovely Douglas Fir that reminds me of the trees we used to get when I was a child. My dad used to order them from out east, and I can remember coming home from school to find the tall, white box waiting for us on the porch. When my dad came home, he'd open the box and pull out what looked to be an impossibly narrow tree, all wrapped in netting. We'd cut loose the ties, and while we ate dinner, the tree would open, unfurling its boughs and spreading its scent through the house.
This year, we made an advent garland. I tore strips of red and green fabric, sewed them into long strands, twisted them around each other and hung them. Each day, the children and I cut out paper snowflakes or stars to hang on the garland.
Sophia decorated the table with an old piece of fabric from her great-grandmother's stash, marking each week of advent with a candle and a new addition to the scene, first stones, then plants, next animals - a Waldorf inspired advent tradition.
Our home has been filled with the warmth of winter festivity.