Well, heck, it seems like people had plans to do Christmas lights outside, but they never came to fruition.

In 1969, my grandmother died very close to Christmas and on the evening after her funeral my mother handed my husband and me some lights and told us to go out and put them on the little cherry tree. It was cold . . .  do you know that? Cold! And I think there was some snow coming down. We got them up and they glistened in the holiday air.

So, today, I thought, “Oh, shoot, let’s get this done because well if you are healthy and can’t put some effort into even a small wreath or something, your soul must be just almost all dried up. It was cold and I fell down once, landing on my knee that has taken the burnt of it during the porch and vestibule adventure of “you’re up . . . oops, you’re down.” My feet got cold; I had a sweatshirt, coat and ear-hugging hat on, but my feet had to take one for the team.

They are up bridging the two tall bushes by the front door – multicolored and LED – in a new arrangement so I won’t have to cut them off. I will have to wait until dark to see how they look – like colors floating in air  . . . or a bad paintball result.

Still, I did it and I enjoyed it. It felt like a real Christmas activity. And it felt a little bit like I had kept the faith.