Oh. Christmas Tree.

Oh Christmas tree, oh Christmas tree, how lovely are thy branches…

Yes, I know it is the third week of January and Kris Kringle is a month into his vacation, probably knocking back umbrella laden cocktails, dreaming of a white sandy shoreline. But in my house, the spirit of Christmas remains. Do visions of sugarplums fill the air? Not quite. And come to think of it, the sense of good will toward men was lost the last time my husband forgot to take out the trash. In truth, it is not as much the spirit as it is the tree of Christmas that lingers.

I am not sure what it is about the flipping of the calendar page from December to January that seems to dim the sparkle on the Christmas lights, but I can tell you that by the time it is nearing February, the luster has completely disappeared; as have the kids, the husband and anyone else who senses the time has come to take it all down and pack it away in the attic. The only one hanging around is the cat, as she has been trying to shake those ornaments loose for weeks.

Yes, it is well past time for the tree to come down. I miss the daylight. I’ve had my curtains drawn since January 2nd. I can either remove the star topped tribute to my shameful procrastination or install skylights to avoid the onset of Rickets.

Still, it is with a slight reluctance that I box up the ornaments. Perhaps we’ve kept our tree up this long because it’s hard to say goodbye to the season of joy and merriment. If the tree still stands, we can hang on to our holiday for just a tad bit longer…

And avoid the diet we vowed would begin the moment the holiday had passed. Yes, it is a depressing day when the tree comes down and I am struck with the realization that it will be eleven months before another Snickerdoodle will pass my lips. Thank goodness I found that candy cane still hanging from a branch in the back.

Our tree was a beautiful display. It was carefully decorated over several days time, my inner Martha Stewart ever tweaking so that each ornament was perfectly aligned for optimum sparkle, shine and color contrast. Martha is nowhere to be found as I now rip the decor from the pine boughs, dumping it haphazardly into cartons. What took days to build, takes only minutes to conquer as I mark the boxes “Will Worry About Next Year” and “Fragile. Most Likely Need to Replace”. When all is done, what was once a beautifully decorated tree has been reduced to a few cardboard boxes. Stacked in the dining room, they wait to be hauled up to the attic.

Which is sure to happen just as soon as we need to go up there to retrieve the Easter decorations.