Those of you who have seen my dollhouse-sized cottage know that there’s no place to put an actual Christmas tree.  Nevertheless, knowing that it’s been occupied by one or another member of my family since it was built about 100 years ago, you’d expect that the attic would be full of vintage Christmas decorations.

You’d be wrong.

For years, the place functioned as a summer cottage or a hunting lodge, so it wasn’t decorated for Christmas.  Even after it was winterized, it was mostly temporary housing for someone who was between homes and, if they had Christmas decorations, they took them when they departed.  Last year at Christmas, we were too broke to buy anything, so I investigated the attic and found a few cast-offs, most of which were too broken or dingy to display.  I did what I could, but it didn’t amount to much.

This year we’re a little better off, so today I’m going to get the ladder from the garage, climb into the attic and get down the one box of items I deemed worth saving, then make a run by the discount store and get a couple of strings of lights to supplement it. 

Now, in Connecticut, there is a school of thought wherein the only tasteful outdoor decorations are evergreen boughs and wreaths, supplemented by a single “candle” (electric bulb acceptable) in each front window. 

I do not subscribe to this school of thought, despite the fact that my Aunt Adelaide could say “ayah” with the best of them.  I want LIGHTS.  I’d just as soon they didn’t blink too much, but a certain amount of twinkling is fun.