It's starting to look like Christmas around here. Not a lot. Just a little bit. We're still unpacking but we can deck the cardboard boxes.
I'm finding it fun to decorate a new house for holidays, to ponder the best spot for the Christmas tree. (Side note: I do not have a Christmas tree yet. I do not support the acquisition of trees prior to mid-December.) In moving, I lost a mantle, but gained a banister, which is good fun. And when I scrubbed the porch last weekend, I found that there is already a little hook on the front door waiting for a wreath.
Perhaps the novelty will wear off over the years, but it seems especially fun to be looking forward to a Christmas in a Victorian house, which inexplicably seems like a Christmasy era. (Let's blame Charles Dickens for that.)
In fact, we're taking that Victorian household thing one step further, in this first week of December, because... Our water heater broke so we're boiling water for baths.
But hey, look! Chestnuts!