Of all the Christmas scenes that come to mind, I think the fireplace hung with stockings and garland is the most iconic of all.
The experience was never realized here in my modern Florida Mediterranean stucco home. Prior to this, we lived in a string of apartments and a duplex. None possessed a fireplace. Only my childhood California ranch home did. That was my last Christmas with a burning fire to roast chestnuts over. Well, not chestnuts really, but tangerines, yes. Dad would peal a juicy tangerine and throw the rind into the flames predicting an imminent roasted citrus scent to invade the living room. The fruity flambe was intoxicating.
But my daughter in Virginia got the goods, mantle and all, and decorated so beautifully this Christmas.
She started a new Advent tradition as well. Instead of a calendar with little windows to open, like the one I had growing up, she gave her kids Advent books - one each day to read.
Usually the boys rough and tumble their way through their day, driving my daughter crazy. But something unusual took place one day.
It was a Christmas miracle!
The boys were sitting quietly in front of the glowing fire poring over their day's book, engaged in an heated, yet civil, adult-like conversation about Santa's descent into the chimney of every little boy and girl in the world.
"Why do you think Santa doesn't mind getting dirty from all the fire places?"
"Maybe he loved playing in dirt as a boy?"
This unprompted event sent mom running for the canon camera, so as not to miss this rare moment of sibling harmony around the family hearth.
Snap away, young mommy. This warm picture will burn in our memory for years to come.
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