Today, the 6th January, is the Twelfth Night or Little Christmas or Epiphany. Whatever you call it, it’s time for us to get serious about cleaning up and cleaning out. Our land home isn’t grand but it’s surpising how much ‘stuff’ accumulates over the years. All our closets have been renovated since moving to this condo. But what was once beautifully organized storage has become ‘quick close the door before things fall out’ storage.
We extracted ourselves from the bed (not lovin’ this flu season) and spent the day tackling two things: one large closet and putting away our Christmas decorations. At the end we’re pretty pleased with the first ‘rough sort’ results.
Christmas decorations have been reduced to half. Confession, still hanging onto a few little treasures, but only a few. I said ‘rough’ sort didn’t I?
We now have a pile of ‘to trash’, ‘to donate’ and ‘to sell’. But inspite of having no particular emotional connection to clothing, I’m finding it hard to get rid of at least a dozen gowns. I look at them and in my mind can relive each wonderful event, the clattering of fine china and clinking crystal, the lilting sounds of music, the conversations where I smiled and nodded (it’s Frenchland and most of the time smiling and nodding was all I could do). I’m not sure if some of those dresses even fit the way they used to (cargo has shifted over the years)..but really! Do women (except those of a certain age) even wear full-length gowns anymore? Release the clutter hounds I say! Out with them all! Tomorrow, my lovelies, you go on eBay to the highest size 2/4 bidder
This is partly why I love blogging. I can talk to you about what I should be or am thinking about doing and voilà. It’s out there for the world to know, so I’m almost obligated to follow through.
Now onto celebrating Little Christmas…
We’ve been invited to share in the Twelfth Day of Christmas at the home of a friend. His place is a spectacular display of all things Christmas. Every inch decorated for the season including real candles on his floor to ceiling tree.
Oh did we dine!. I think I counted seven courses in all, the final course being the Cake of the Kings (a brief description of its origin here) or in French ‘galette des rois’ which has a tiny procelain figurine hidden somewhere in the filling. The person whose piece contains the little treasure becomes king or in this case, queen of the feast who then chooses her king to sit by her side for the rest of the evening
It was an evening filled with beautiful music, delicious food, laughter, friendship and tradition…and in the wee hours of the morning we returned home, with bellies and hearts full, with heads full of great memories to carry us through winter’s chilly days, and with a bag full of treats for tomorrow’s first coffee.