And still the battered fairy flies...

A rainy day blip. 

Our Yule tree is a chaotic thing. Less intentional design and more story has gone into it than many a tree attracts. No tinsel, no matched balls... this year we couldn't even find the customary string of lights, and had to report to the outdoor set! Which actually worked out rather well. But everything on the tree has a story. 

There are boomerang-wielding kangaroos, sent by our southern hemisphere relatives. There are porcelain eggs from Austria. Wooly snowmen that Charlie knitted. The fairy on top of the tree is older than I am (and could really use a change of crepe paper tutu!) and this fairy is Mrs H. Long gone now and beloved in life, her memory lives on each midwinter. 

What is remembered, lives.