Light in the Darkness

 This morning I woke up at my usual-early time, 6:15. (My usual-late time is 7:30.) Thanks to Sunday's time change it was already light outside, and I felt a bit annoyed, because we can't actually change the amount of  daylight we receive, we can only shift it around, and I'd rather mine be at night. I grew up in northern Indiana when we didn't change clocks, not at all. All through elementary, middle and high school I went to school in the dark this time of year. I saw it as a regular thing, and, as such, I've never minded getting up in the dark. I don't even mind it in the middle of summer, because usually I'm only up in the dark because it's a horse show morning, and those are the best mornings. The sunrise over the stables and the horses murmuring for their breakfasts and chewing their hay--lovely.

Having it be dark by the time I'm doing evening chores--not.

Happily, it's pretty light and cheerful inside my house. My wonderful husband loves to decorate for Christmas. He's very good at it. He'll make plans and buy ornaments all year around. Up until now, however, I've made it a firm rule that no actual decorating takes place before Thanksgiving. I really enjoy Thanksgiving and I like to let it have a place all its own. All the years of our marriage we've started decorating for Christmas the day after Thanksgiving. Forget Black Friday--in our house it's red and green.

This year my daughter is studying in England, where they don't celebrate Thanksgiving. Happily--joyfully--how amazing to travel again--we're taking Thanksgiving to her. We, including my son, will be in England the entire week of Thanksgiving, including both weekends.

Nearly a month ago my husband came up to me. "We need to talk." (I know him well. This is not as ominous as it sounds.) He said, "It's October 11th." (It was.) He said, "I'll never be able to get all my decorating finished in time if I don't start soon."

We could quibble over the precise meaning of "in time," but why? Why not enjoy some extra lovely? Particularly when I will not in fact be able to see a Christmas tree when I sit down to eat my Thanksgiving turkey. (No one can tell me if I'll be able to get a turkey in England. If not, it'll be Thanksgiving goose. I've never cooked a goose before, and it's about time.)

So this morning I schlepped down the stairs grousing that it was already light, and lo, there was the kitchen Christmas tree lit up in its red, white, and green glory. There was the living room tree, shining red and gold. There were the little trees, and the banister swag, all bright and cheerful. (The family room tree will be a live tree, so it really will go up after Thanksgiving.) 

It was a pretty glorious start to the day. 

I can already see what's going to happen next year.