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mivt wuu iui guus ui everything from hard rock candy to hard rock records.
By the time (where has it gone; that the next two Sundays in December gather speed, you may be unwrapping the trip to the grocery for the plump turkey and trimmings; the stuffing of the freezer with goodies until the door falls open like Fibber McGee’s closet; the setting of electric candles in the house windows ta beckon the Christ Child on to Bethlehem; the presents that are hidden in neighbor’s closets away from the eager eyes of children; the frosty rime on the windows making it even more snug within; the practicing of the Christmas pageant in old bathrobes and costume jewelry; the bomming of carols from great cathedrals and small white church spires alike on the crisp December air; the appearance of nativity scenes on church lawns, some with real sheep; the red candles nestled in |holly rings on the tables; the I cutting of the Yule log to burn in the evergreen-swagged fireplace on Christmas Day ; and then the hanging of the wreath on the front door, and finally, into the living room is triumphantly borne the fragrant Christmas tree!
Now off come the wrappings from the beloved time when cherished decorations from past Christmases are hung on the tree; the turning on of all the lights in all the windows up and down the cold December streets; of the mistletoe that is hung over the door; of the relatives that drive up in gift-laden cars; and the filling of the house to the brim with cooking, kindness, laughter, song, and expectation. _
On the last .Sunday- before Christmas, if you are especially favored, you might unwrap a thick snowfall dotted with sleds, red scarves, and many a “bellysmasher”!
And finally, there remains only the dark blue foil shot with star beams of Christmas Eve, and the shiny rainbow foil of Christmas Day. As you open these at last you will find your heart expanding in the old dear way to hold all the
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