In which the outside is brought in.
There’s this juniper bush in our front yard. (NB: the term “front yard” is to be interpreted very loosely, indeed. While it meets the “front” criterion without question, the “yard” element is clearly only a casual attribution. However, I digress.)
This plant is about 4′ in diameter, and about 10″ high. It is the sprawling, languishing type of juniper, rather than the alert, bustling sort. The middle 2′ or so is mostly just flat brown branches and scruffy bark, so essentially it looks like a dead squashed thing except for the outer portions of the branches.
Now, since I don’t have a tree this year, and am sorely missing the smell and look of fresh evergreen, I cut off several of the frondy branch ends and placed them about the living room. Very nice; fragrant and festive.
I’m tempted to apply a few tree decorations to increase the festivity quotient, but then I’d not only have to choose which ones from amongst the collection would have the privilege (too much to ask, surely), but they’d also have to be put away again afterward. And since not having to put the decorations away is the only real consolation to be had for not having them on a tree in the first place, it’s not happening.
So I have some naked, simple greenery about the room, lending its pleasant evergreen scent and a subtle sense of occasion to the atmosphere.
This is the small bit on my desk, with the cat resenting the fact that I won’t let her tip it over to get at the water.