Living in a Christmas Card

We live in the "Historic District" of Cheshire.

Our house was built in 1851 and is somewhere in the middle of dates of houses on our street.

And everyone--except our neighbor Bernie and us (and Bernie's Jewish and in Florida this time of year) does a lot of decorations.

It's all in very good taste (this is the Historic District of Cheshire, after all) just lights in all the windows and some spot lights on wreathes and things and Christmas trees on the porch. Stuff like that. Antique sleighs are ok--any illuminated Christmas figure (snowman, Santa, etc.) is too crass. So it is all understated and elegant and I was standing out on the deck last night looking at three neighbors houses with lights in every window and one with a spotlight on an outbuilding that has wreathes and garland. Looming above them was the steeple of the Congregation Church all alight.

I told Bern, "We live in a Christmas Card, in a place that is the imagined 'perfect New England Christmas scene'...."

I expected her to share my utter amazement and troubled soul to live in such a place.

"It's nice," she said.

As left wing as I am, Bern makes me look like a member of the Tea Party! So if she thinks it's 'nice' to live in a New England Christmas Card, I guess it is.

Nice.