Merry and bright

My tree is up, adorned with the tin decorations and wooden beads collected over the years. No tinsel, just small, unobtrusive white lights that peep through foliage and flicker to their own set rhythm.
In the kitchen, star lights have once again attached themselves to the windowpane spreading a warm glow to the passer by; whilst the Swedish Nativity tower spins lazily round under the watchful eyes of stylised reindeer.
 I love the ritual of decorating the house at Christmas; stringing lights around the picture frames, and banisters; and scrabbling in the box for  Jesus in his manger. When the gloom of the evening settles heavily all around, the strings of lights banish the dark with their soft golden light.
Baby Jesus slumbers under the soft focus gaze of Buddha and the Madonna once more,  and all is calm and bright.