Timeless & Classic: Christmas with KJP

No one does Christmas quite like Kiel James Patrick and Sarah Vickers.

I’M KIEL JAMES PATRICK, A BORN AND RAISED NEW ENGLANDER, FASHION DESIGNER, PHOTOGRAPHER, AND FAN OF ANYTHING OLD, TIMELESS AND CLASSIC. My wife Sarah and I formally launched our brand in 2007, but the dream that ultimately came to fruition as KJP began long before that. My high school, Bishop Hendricken, had a strict uniform policy that I just couldn’t abide by. Luckily for me, I was handed down my grandmother’s sewing machine. I started making fabric bracelets for my friends and me to wear under our uniforms. Man, I must have made at least a thousand of the first KJP bracelets on that machine.

Shortly after that, I met Sarah – we were two teenagers crazy in love, with big dreams. We’ve spent nearly every day together since then. We always had long conversations about where we saw ourselves in the future, and we kept returning to the idea of working for ourselves and creating something that was both unique and representative of our New England lifestyle. We are both avid collectors of vintage clothes, and our first foray into fashion was selling old clothing under the name Wicked Vintage. A lot of our original ideas for KJP were born out of that endeavor. Working with vintage fabrics and patterns, we were invigorated to try some new takes on classic fashion accessories.

We used any materials we could get our hands on at first: old ties, vintage pants, beat-up shirts, and of course rope, to design our accessories.

We’ve always had this untamed ambition and a steady sense that we’re living out our own version of the American Dream. Eventually, we hit our stride, and started our first KJP workshop in the space above my parents’ garage, hand-dyeing hundreds of ropes a day in old lobster pots we found in the attic. Thankfully for everyone’s sake and sanity, we’ve moved out of my parents’ garage, and now the lobster pots are reserved for Memorial Day Weekend.

In many ways, KJP has developed and matured alongside Sarah and me. When we first started out, we’d spend any free time we had at the beach, riding bikes in Nantucket, sailing in Newport, and having bonfires at Beavertail Park -- long summer days with the ocean as the backdrop to all our adventures.

That was reflected in the designs and products we were making at the time. Back in those days we were only an accessory company, focused on nautical “New Englandy” summer styles. Moving through life together, we grew, we changed, we became more well-rounded people and in turn a more well-rounded company. What you see from KJP now reflects where and who we are today. We have our own family with our own growing traditions. More than ever, we really highlight the four seasons that New England is famous for. Those breezy carefree days at the beach have blended into family beach adventures with sandcastles and lots of sunscreen.  And for every trip to Nantucket there are two trips to the mountains for a cozy cabin getaway. That’s why KJP nowadays reflects a total seasonal indulgence. The Cozy Cabin Collection is basically all the things we love to wear on leaf peeping trips, decorating the house for fall and winter, or spending the holidays with family and friends.

We still love our New England summers but it’s the cold weather months that spark that magic of our favorite seasons.

Our style has developed and really been influenced by my love and appreciation for art, particularly the art that’s inspired my photography, like that of Norman Rockwell and Thomas Kinkade. Their work embodies the ease with which you can get lost in a surreal scene. It’s probably why one of my favorite hobbies is going to antique stores, because there

I’m always finding little pieces of Americana that remind me of a painting, a Christmas card or a page from a book I grew up reading. I love that combination of familiar but fantastical. It’s a welcome escape from the craziness of today’s world, and definitely something I think of when we’re capturing and creating our own photos. When you look at one of our pictures, if it doesn’t take you away for a second and transport you that place and time with a warm feeling in your soul, then it’s not a picture worth remembering. I want to remember every photo I take these days.

My favorite Christmas tradition begins at Thanksgiving. Every year we go to my family’s cabin in the White Mountains of New Hampshire. After dinner we decorate the Christmas tree my parents planted in the yard when they bought the land. When Sarah and I started doing this, the tree came up to my waist. Now it’s about three times taller than I am.

We’ve had to keep buying bigger ladders as the tree grows. But my favorite part is that almost without exception, it snows there on Thanksgiving Day. It’s our oldest tradition as a couple and I really look forward to it. Then it’s a race back inside before my dad and brother eat all of the apple pie.

My favorite New England “staple” is, believe it or not, shoveling snow. I love layering up in the morning, throwing on our gloves and Bean boots and spending a couple hours in the cold tossing some snow around. The best part is leaving your wet clothes by the door while you warm up by the fire with a cup of hot chocolate.

My mom’s gingerbread cookies are easily my favorite Christmas food. My mom’s an amazing baker and she uses a gingerbread recipe from her mom. Every year she and I have a blind taste test to see who made the best gingerbread cookies. Some years she wins, some I win, and the loser always goes home a little bitter, but I guess they go home with gingerbread too, so it’s a pretty sweet consolation. As for my favorite Christmas song, that’s a very hard question! It has to be older than me to make the cut as a favorite, but if I had to pick one it would be “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” by Burl Ives.

That’s more than just a song for me, as it reminds me of being a kid in anticipation of Christmas and knowing this was the one time of year we could watch the Rudolph special on TV. My dad told us it was what he looked forward to most as a kid. No matter what was going on, we watched it as a family together, and to this day we still wait until we’re all together to watch it. Now when the song comes on the radio, I get a kick out Harry singing the same song his dad and grandfather sang joyfully as kids.

Sarah and I got married at Christmastime 2015 at Henry’s Christmas Tree Farm. Henry’s is a special place to us that we’ve been visiting since we were teenagers, and there was never any doubt that’s where we were going to get married. We got our Christmas wish and it snowed just enough on our wedding day to cover the whole farm in a light hue of green and white. It’s definitely my most precious Christmas memory.

Christmas has a way of freezing time. A certain song comes on the radio, or you’re looking out the window when it starts to snow and just for a second you think you might be ten years old again. It doesn’t matter how many years go by, I love watching the same movies, putting up the family’s old ornaments, and even eating the same pot roast I’ve pretended to like for the last 30 years. Tradition is what I look forward to most about Christmas; to me, it IS Christmas. Now, the best part is I get to see it all over again through Harry’s eyes.

Celebrating is going to be a little different this year, but the best parts of Christmas have always been the simple things and I’m really thankful we can still do those. I love driving around the neighborhood to see everyone’s decorations, setting up the projector for Christmas movie marathons, wearing all my classic Christmas sweaters, and drinking too much eggnog with my family. I’ve got everything I need to celebrate right at home.

Always Cozy: Christmas with @keeleymckendree

Keeley McKendree (@keeleymckendree) has created a cozy cottage world that comes to life with the Christmas season and spirit.

I LIVE IN A COZY COTTAGE NESTLED OUT IN THE COUNTRY IN THE BEAUTIFUL STATE OF NORTH CAROLINA, with my husband, Nick, and our two cats, Arnold and Lenny. I’m a maker, creator, gardener, baker, and lover of all things cozy and vintage.

Gosh, there is so much I love about Christmas! At the top of my list are the cozy, warm feelings that Christmas brings, and all the time spent with family. At Christmastime, everything just seems so magical and happy. Even simple housekeeping tasks seem almost joyful by the warm, peaceful glow of the Christmas tree. The fun little activities, like baking and making crafts together, are special to my close-knit family.

I have so, so many favorites Christmas memories! When I was growing up, Thanksgiving night was the kickoff to the season. My daddy would drag in all the Christmas boxes from our storage shed and put on Christmas music. My mama, brother, and I would go to town decorating the house and putting up the tree! I also remember decorating my grandparents’ and Granny’s house for the season. They had a huge, white two-story house, and we decorated their staircase with a collection of vintage elves my MawMaw and Granny had. Every year, we’d wrap the garland around the railing and line the elves up the railing.

Those elves were my most favorite Christmas decoration ever, and still are. My mama has them now, and she sets them on her mantel in a sleigh. 

Every Christmas morning, my daddy would wake us up at about 5 am with a singing Tigger Santa -- Tigger from Winnie the Pooh, dressed up like Santa, singing “Santa Claus is Coming to Town”!  The four of us, my parents, my brother, and I, would spend Christmas morning together. Then we’d head to my grandparents’ and Granny’s house for our big extended family Christmas with a huge breakfast and lots of presents. I will never forget feeling swallowed by all the wrapping paper and toys everywhere! My MawMaw and Granny were very, very important women to me, and they have unfortunately passed away. But every year when I’m decorating my house or baking my Christmas treats, I feel them right there with me! They loved the holidays so much.

Nick and I have our own set of Christmas traditions now. Every December 23, we begin our three-day Christmas-palooza! During that day, we celebrate our little Christmas together — me, Nick, and our fur babies, Arnold and Lenny. Nick and I bake treats together, open presents, drink lots of coffee and hot chocolate, watch Christmas movies, and let our kitty babies open their gifts. They’re always far more fascinated with the paper than the toys!

On Christmas Eve, Nick’s mom makes us a yummy supper, and we open gifts and visit with family and friends. Then on Christmas Day, we wake up super-early and head to my parents’ house. My mama makes breakfast, we watch A Christmas Story, and enjoy the morning together. And of course, the family pup, Nestor, gets to open all his little gifts. Then we head to my PawPaw’s house and gather with my aunts, uncles and cousins to eat lunch, open presents and spend the afternoon together. On Christmas night, Nick and I make Christmas dinner for my parents and my brother. When everyone has left for the night, Nick and I snuggle up on the couch with our fur babies for some decaf coffee and reminisce about the wonderful day.

Over the past few years, my source of Christmas inspiration has been more of a “feeling”, as opposed to specific visual images: I like to think about old-fashioned Christmases. What would Christmas have looked like in an old country farmhouse 100 years ago? It always strikes me as something natural, simple, and cozy. Always cozy! I roll that around in my head, and just imagine how I can keep it simple. From there, I’ll use Pinterest to search for “simple Christmas” or “natural Christmas” ideas. Usually, I come across an image that inspires me, like a naked Christmas tree with just lights, against a window with a candle in it. I think about how I can recreate that look and that cozy feeling of pure happiness and calm that the image elicited.

I’m a music junkie, and Christmas music is no exception! I adore anything Elvis sings, especially his versions of “Here Comes Santa Claus” and “Silver Bells”. Oh, and I can’t leave out “You’re a Mean One, Mr. Grinch”! I do love that! My favorite Christmas movie is another hard choice. But I’m going to have to say the original How the Grinch Stole Christmas cartoon. And my family never missed watching Rudolph or Frosty on TV. As for my favorite Christmas food, that’s an easy one! Hands down, my mama’s stuffing balls! The recipe was my MawMaw’s, and now my mama carries on the tradition.

This Christmas, despite all the difficulties this year has presented, I am hopeful that we can still celebrate with family. We all might be wearing masks and keeping our social distance, but the room will still be filled with love, happiness, and thankfulness!

Merry & Bright: Christmas with Hayes Cottage

Amy Whyte takes us inside her home filled with vintage Christmas finds and festive good cheer!

I LIVE IN LEESBURG, VIRGINIA WITH MY HUSBAND AND SON, AND OUR THREE DOGS AND NINE CHICKENS. When we first discovered our home in Leesburg, it had been abandoned for 10 years and was in very rough shape. We spent a year fixing it up and moved in 2012. It’s still a work in progress, but I love our home and it’s my favorite place to be. We also have a little cottage in the mountains not far from our home that we are in the process of restoring (@hayes.cottage).

I’ve been part of the Old Lucketts Store since we opened in 1996. At Lucketts, I spend most of my time transforming the Design House, an old farmhouse on the property, with décor and treasures both old and new. I also perform design work on the side.

I love old houses and antique furniture...basically, all things vintage! I have found joy in making spaces beautiful since I was a child. I first started collecting in earnest when I began going to local auctions for my shop. I caught the auction bug fast! There was nothing like the thrill of sorting through rows and rows of treasures at a beautiful old farm. The first thing I started collecting was vintage textiles. I am a textile junkie! Vintage cabbage rose bark cloth, Beacon blankets, old plaid wool blankets, timeworn ticking remnants, classic white pillowcases with sweet crocheted edges... these all make my heart go pitter-pat! For a while, my taste took a turn toward shades of white, but lately I’ve felt a return to my roots of all things color.

My favorite places to hunt for vintage treasures are the Old Lucketts Store and Hip and Humble Interiors in Berryville, Virginia. You never know what you are going to find at either of those places, and they are constantly bringing in fresh stocks of cool old finds at great prices! When I go hunting or picking, I like to make a day of it... I load up all three dogs in the car, hit the local country roads and shops, and try to end the day with a hike at the State Arboretum.

For Christmas, I collect old plaid wool blankets, folky farmhouses, and old toy trucks. I like to decorate for Christmas by bringing greens in from the yard. I take clippings from the pine trees and boxwood shrubs and place them over picture frames or in big bowls around the house. To me, the smell of fresh pine in my home just says Christmas. It’s so simple, and instantly transforms everyday objects into Christmas decor.

For anyone who wants to start collecting, whether at Christmastime or throughout the year, my advice is quite simple: just buy what you love. If it speaks to you, then bring it home! Fill your space with what fills you.

Personally, I don’t feel that I have a particular collecting or decorating style; I just collect what I love. I can say that I am inspired by color and nature. Right now, I’m really into shades of green and brown, and am starting to collect pieces of pottery and transferware in those shades.

My favorite memory of Christmas is a recent one – I love recalling the way we spent the holiday last year. It just didn’t seem right to let our little fixer-upper cottage sit alone on Christmas. So, we packed up a tree, a Crock Pot and a bottle of wine and headed up to the cottage for the day. We clipped branches from the yard and decorated the front door and mantel. We put lights on the tree and made a fire. We had our Crock Pot dinner in deck chairs by the fire. It was simple and quiet and peaceful -- perfect. This year we hope to do the same thing!

— @amycwhyte

Christmas will always be as long as we stand heart to heart and hand in hand.

­— Dr. Seuss

Pass It On: Christmas Cards with Earth Angels Studios

Jen O'Connor educates us on the history of Christmas postcards.

TRADITIONS, ART, AND LITERATURE ARE LADEN WITH BIRDS who carry meaning in the use of their images or are said to bring a message with their appearance.

A favorite Celtic tale documents the annual feud of the Holly King – winter’s Wren, and the Oak King – summer’s Robin, and their exchange of season and power. Another tale tells of the Robin as the bird in the manger who fanned the flames to warm the Christ child, burning his breast red in the effort. And those are just two among a myriad of folkloric tales in which Robins appear. Suffice to say... Robins have earned their place in story and memory.

Antique postcards from the Christmas and winter season often showcase Robins. Indeed, Robins – like the darling red-breasted English Robins on these cards dating from 1901-1916 – are among the birds that have a huge number of symbolic meanings attached to them. Robins are said to mean everything from good luck and spiritual renewal, to representing an omen of change.

The sending of holiday cards was extremely popular in Victorian England where predominantly German-printed cards and postcards were used to send holiday greetings. Interestingly, the mail carriers wore bright red uniforms and were nicknamed “Robins”. In a nod to this and in the whimsy of adding yet another symbol to the Robins who appear at this time of year, artists and illustrators took to adorning holiday cards with Robins; a double-entendre of Robins as messengers of the season in folklore and in the common parlance of the daily mail delivery!

In the United States, printed postcards flourished in the marketplace following the Private Mailing Card Act of Congress, passed in 1898. This made the cost of sending a postcard just one penny—instead of the two-cent letter rate—and allowed private publishers to print cards. German companies made exquisitely printed cards for export and American printers expanded with more readily available lithographic-produced cards that could be purchased and then be stamped with a one-cent stamp sold by the US Postal Service and its agents. With the post delivered twice a day in cities and more populated areas, postcards were much like today’s quick text to confirm a meeting, ask a question or send a note of regard.

Seasonal themed cards proliferated for daily correspondence. They were not used to extend what we think of as traditional season’s greetings, or as formal Christmas cards.  Instead, holiday-themed cards were used for regular correspondence during the holiday season. So, even more than 100 years later, these cards were so common that they are still easy enough to find and remain an affordable seasonal treat and are lovely to collect. They are not only charming in appearance, but a quick read of the messages on them reveals a peek into the daily life of those long ago.

Robins – perhaps because they are so easily identifiable and so prevalent – carry more meaning for many of us than most of their winged counterparts. Setting tale and theory aside, they make a lovely statement of the season’s hues, and herald a vintage-style nod to the lovely tradition of sending a thoughtful greeting.

The Wise Men Smelled Like Smoke

THERE IS AN OLD JOKE THAT ASKS, “do you know why the wise men smelled like smoke?” Of course the answer is, “because they came from afar.” In my area of the country, the word “fire” often sounds more like “far”.

Another version of the joke tells of the traveler passing through a small town during the Christmas season. This particular town had the tradition of displaying a live nativity scene on the city square. The traveler stopped to admire the scene and reflect on the real meaning of Christmas but found this scene to be a bit different from normal. The “usual suspects” were on display: Mary, Joseph, Baby Jesus, an angel, shepherds and even a donkey and a sheep. What made this a most unique nativity scene was the presence of three firefighters, all decked out in their bunker gear. The visitor turned to a local and inquired as to the reason for having firefighters in the display of the Holy Birth. The local fellow answered, “Why, stranger, don’t you recognize them? They are the wise men.” To that, the traveler responded, “The wise men? Why are they in firefighting gear?” “Don’t you know your Bible? It plainly says ‘they came from afar.’”

This leads to my small town and church Christmas pageants. No, we didn’t exactly replay “The Best Christmas Pageant Ever” with the Herdmans, but we did have a similar version one year.

My hometown boasted a population of 300 in the 1960s and that figure hasn’t changed much since. Although small in number of people, there have always been an abundance of small churches. My home is Centertown United Methodist Church. Much like our town, my congregation is relatively small in number. That never hindered the production of a Christmas pageant each year.

The year was about 1964 or ‘65, as I recall. I was about 10 years old and not quite old enough to be a member of what was then known as MYF (Methodist Youth Fellowship) so I landed a lesser role in the play. I think that was the year I had a non-speaking part as an angel in the nativity scene that unfolded as the program progressed. My older brother, Ronnie, played the innkeeper. He was 16 and probably thought he had outgrown church Christmas plays and was “too busy” to bother with rehearsals. The night of the production he did show up and gave the performance of a lifetime…all without rehearsals and therefore, ad lib. It was truly a great performance that nearly stole the show.

Remember, I said nearly. My sister, Janet, played the role of Mary. Her best friend, Vicky, was the angel who appeared to Mary. “Hell, Mary!” she exclaimed. As you can imagine, that had the entire cast in stitches every rehearsal. She, of course, was supposed to say “Hail, Mary!” but it always came out like “hell”. Rehearsals invariably had a friendly argument between Mary and the angel.

“Vicky! The word is hail, not hell.”

“That’s what I’m saying. ‘Hell’, Mary.”

That went on for a couple of rounds before an adult stepped in to move forward with rehearsal. All the while we younger kids were taking our places in the manger scene at the appropriate point in the story. As most 7-11 year olds, we found it difficult to keep from giggling all the time anyway. Our angel proclaiming hell and our ad lib proficient innkeeper only gave us fodder for laughter.

We made it through the acting portion of the program and then prepared for the grand finale…our youth choir concert. We prepared several traditional Christmas carols and had settled into a more serious mood. A couple of ladies had taken sheets of crepe paper and made choir robes for all the young people. We assembled in the pulpit area and arranged ourselves into the practiced formation of a Christmas tree. A few select “branches” carried small candles to serve as lights on the tree. All went well as we sang “Away in a Manger” and “Silent Night” in our best angelic voices. The candle-bearers had been well-coached and no candle came close to the paper robes. Since I was one of the younger and smaller singers, I didn’t carry a candle.

A fellow classmate of mine, Kathy, did, however. She stood behind me and followed directions carefully. She did not let her candle get near her robe nor mine. She held it high enough to be seen but by the time we sang “sleep in heavenly peace” the final time, her arm apparently got tired and she had lowered her candle to a point right behind my head…and a bit too close. My hair, in some recollections, caught fire. Mom played piano for us and as soon as the last note was played she saw what was happening. She quickly jumped up and “patted” my head to keep the fire from burning my scalp. I didn’t realize what had happened but did notice an odd smell. Although my head didn’t actually burst into flames, it did singe the hair on the back of my head enough that I had quite a bald spot for some time.

Needless to say, now we never use real candles in such a manner. Our Christmas pageants may not have as much flair (or maybe that should be flare) but the tradition of small town church Christmas plays continues. Strains of “Away in a Manger” and “Silent Night” often mix with more contemporary carols but the spirit stays the same. We all probably grumbled about having to be in those productions each year but I’m willing to bet every one of us will have to admit that some of our best childhood memories center on those rehearsals and presentations…complete with shepherds in bathrooms.

I may not have been a wise man/woman but I definitely smelled like smoke!

The Best Santa

A love of Santas becomes a collection. By Sharon Schwalbach

Santa Photo: @ryaninmanphoto

YEARS AGO, I’M THINKING AROUND 40 YEARS OR SO, MOST EVERYONE HAD SOME SORT OF COLLECTION, SPECIFIC COLLECTIONS. Some collected salt dips or butter molds, maybe baskets or pewter. It wasn’t so much like the collections of today where you have a few of a special type of antique or vintage item that you choose selectively to add to your home, I’m talking a collection. I think that might be defined as many, like maybe a hundred or more. I know many of you remember those days, and for those of you who don’t, it was real. I chose to collect Santas and all who knew that seemed to find one more unique than the one before, just for me. I purchased some myself but many of them were gifted to me by family and friends. Each year I emptied a big cupboard to make room for them all to be displayed. I found so much joy each year in unwrapping each one and remembering where he was discovered or who gifted him to me.

There were so many Santas that held a special meaning, invoking thoughts of those who had gifted each one. Some were more special than others, much like many things to all of us, but one of my Santas was the most special of all. My Dad was always on a mission to find me an antique that he knew I would love, and he was so very good at it. From a wonderful old Hoosier cupboard and later the bread board with the shoofly to display on such cupboard. The two of us were junking when I purchased my very first memorable antique, a #3 salt glaze bee sting crock. I was 18, didn’t really have the $5 they were asking. Dad offered them $4. They accepted and that crock is a treasure to me still today.

I still hold dear the memory of the day he dropped in with the brown paper bag, handing it to me with a grin and an “I think you’ll like it”. I opened with anticipation.  A bit tattered and torn. A smudge of age here and there. An arm with a bell in the hand that no longer was able to animate as the motor was worn out. Shiny little black boots and the sweetest of faces. His beard was less than perfect and his cap a bit askew but to me he was the most perfectly beautiful Santa I had ever seen.

Each Christmas I take this special Santa from the tissue he’s wrapped in and most often a tear falls.  He finds a special place to sit to enable him to view those who surround him and all the holiday happenings. The happenings of a family enjoying life and its offerings. A son and daughter, the grands and all the extensions. A family who misses their Patriarch, each and every day, but most especially over the Holidays. Thirty years have passed and Dad has been gone 25 of those 30 years. He left us at 62 years young. He spent his last Christmas in the ICU waiting for a heart transplant, a heart he would never receive. I like to believe that there just wasn’t one out there quite good enough for him. Yes, that’s what I believe. I also believe that somehow through the eyes of my special Santa, Dad sees it all and the love he created. Through the eyes of that tattered and torn, but still so perfect Santa with the sweetest of faces. The Santa gifted to a daughter who loved him more. The Best Santa ever.

The Side Room Closet

A PIECE BY ALICE HALE ADAMS

FANNIE LEE CELEBRATED HER SIXTH BIRTHDAY IN THE WEEKS BEFORE CHRISTMAS, 1924. The excitement in the house was mirrored in her face, the joy exhibited in her inability to be still.

Her mother had spent weeks preparing for Christmas. The candy was sealed in tins, pink and white divinity, chocolate, peanut butter, and vanilla fudge, and caramels. Cookies were layered between sheets of waxed paper and a coconut cake sat waiting in the cellar.

December 21st was the day the tree was cut and brought to the house. Papa chopped off the big limbs at the base of the tree. Fannie Lee and her older brother, Wellington, helped him place the tree into a bucket filled with small rocks, dense enough to hold the tree upright and allow for watering. The window at the front of the house, far enough from the fireplace to avoid sparks, was chosen as the place to show off the Christmas tree.

Their house contained five rooms: a living room, two bedrooms, a kitchen and the side room, as well as a screened back porch. The front porch reached across the living room and front bedroom.

Mama used a little closet off the side room as a hiding place for the tins of candy and boxes of cookies. Tall shelves hid the Christmas presents that had been purchased for the children. Outside in the cellar, along with the coconut cake, Mama had wrapped apples and oranges in brown paper and tobacco leaves.

Fannie Lee was curious about hidden things. If she found herself alone in the house for a few minutes she immediately began searching for the candy and cookies she knew her Mama had made and put away for Christmas. Tiptoeing through the front bedroom, she looked in the dresser drawers and under the bed. Disappointed, she slipped into the side room, peeking behind the sideboard doors.

She rarely had more than a short time to look, but finally the day came when she wandered into the closet. Immediately, she could tell by the aroma that she had found the sweets. Listening for Mama, she picked through the tins on the shelves. Climbing into a chair, she reached as far as her arm would reach and felt the tin boxes on the top shelf.

Joy filled her heart but she had to shove the box back as she heard the back door open and slam shut. She sauntered into the kitchen, acting as innocent as a baby.

The next time Fannie Lee found herself alone she dashed into the closet, climbed on the chair, pulled down the box, opened the lid, and ate one piece of chocolate fudge. It melted in her mouth. Shivers ran down her spine.

She became braver and slipped into the closet even when she was not alone in the house. She was very quiet, scooting the chair across the floor without a sound, climbing up and getting a piece of candy. She ate a different kind each time so there would be some of each left for Christmas. But soon she could tell the box was less full and she felt afraid. She put the candy box back on the shelf, vowing not to eat another piece. Then she found the cookies.

She could hardly contain herself. She loved cookies better than anything, even better than the candy. It was hard to get them out of the wrapping without messing up the whole container but she just had to eat some. She took one of each kind, put them in her pocket, returned the container to the shelf, and went to the corner of the side room to eat them. They were glorious. 

On Christmas Eve morning, Fannie Lee began to worry about eating the candy and cookies. She knew her mother would be opening the boxes for everyone to share. Maybe it would be Christmas Day before they would eat the sweets. Would she get a whipping?

Much to her relief, Christmas Eve night came and it was time to go to bed. The cookies and candy were still on the shelf in the little closet. But with the excitement of Christmas and being nervous about eating the sweets, Fannie Lee couldn’t sleep. For a while, she cried. Then she decided she wouldn’t be in trouble since it was Christmas and she felt good and excited. It wasn’t long until she cried some more.

She pretended to be sleeping when Mama came to her bed. She didn’t move at all, although it was hard to be still.

Soon after Mama left the room she could hear soft noises coming from the direction of the Christmas tree. Could it be Santa? She just couldn’t stay in bed. She crept as quiet as a mouse across the floor to the door, which had been left slightly open. The lamp was burning in the living room, making big shadows that willowed like ghosts on the walls.

Fannie Lee was scared, but not enough to make her go back to bed.

Her heart nearly stopped when she saw her Mama hanging presents on the Christmas tree, a little truck and a bag of blocks for Wellington, and for her a blue lamp with a clear glass chimney. It was just the right size to sit on the table in her playhouse. It was perfect.

Fannie Lee didn’t think she could be any happier when, to her surprise, Mama tied a doll on the tree. It wore a blue checked dress and small black shoes and white socks. It was the most beautiful doll she had ever seen.

She watched as Mama went to the closet to get the candy and cookies. Fear gripped her chest. Mama opened the boxes. Fannie Lee heard her sigh and watched her shake her head. Mama spread the candy and cookies on white plates, set them on the table beside the tree, and covered them with a clean cloth. Then she went to bed.

Fannie Lee hurried to her bed. She stayed awake as long as she could, thinking of the doll and lamp. It only seemed like minutes before Wellington woke her up to come to see what had been left for them.

They gathered their presents from the tree, jumping up and down and squealing. Mama and Papa sat in their chairs by the fireplace, watching.

After they settled down to play with their toys, Mama passed around the plates of cookies and candy. When she handed them to Fannie Lee, she winked at her and smiled.

O Christmas Tree

A lifetime of plastic-fake Christmas trees makes way for the annual Christmas tree cutting trip.

IN KENTUCKY, YOU DON’T REALLY HAVE THE LUXURY OF FRESH CHRISTMAS TREES. The stories I’ve heard about people going out to the old mine lands and cutting a cedar tree truly confuse me. Every cedar tree I’ve ever known has bent and bowed with the addition of even the lightest ornament or light. I’ve also learned that pine trees, while pretty, aren’t particularly shaped to be a Christmas tree. Beyond those two imperfect choices, you are pretty much left with “fake” down here in the Bluegrass State. Today, the options for fake trees are endless, but twenty years ago, the stereotypical cone-shaped green fake tree was all that could be found.

I believe there is a real science to fake Christmas tree development.  Right now, as you read this, there is someone in a lab (yes, a literal laboratory) creating more advanced fake Christmas tree varieties and technologies. In some small way, those people will change the world. However, on countless farms across the country at this very minute families are celebrating the time-honored tradition of cutting their family Christmas trees. In a world where chocolate and vanilla soft serve can swirl out of the same machine, I believe we have a place for both fake and real Christmas trees. This year I have already put up ten fake trees, and before it is over there will be at least one real one in the mix.

I grew up in the 90s with strictly the fake variety of Christmas tree, for the reasons explained above. In Kentucky, we simply didn’t have fresh tree farms, and even the Boy Scouts quit selling them down in front of the grocery stores sometime around 2000. Ours was a Walmart special bought in 1994 at the Walmart that is now a Mexican restaurant in town. It claims to be a six-foot tree, according to its box, but you and I both know it is a five-foot tree at the very most. That extra foot of alleged height only comes into play if you stretch, pull, and fluff that long branch on the very top like Alfalfa’s hair in The Little Rascals. That tree is currently displayed next to a bright green velvet sectional in my backroom. It is looking rough after twenty-five years, but is still going strong.

There is one place in our town that does sell live Christmas trees, but they truck them in from Alabama, which feels weird to me. I’ve only ever bought one tree from there, but I do highly recommend their fruit baskets. However, each year I do buy a live tree, be it at a random tree farm out in the country or somewhere in the Catskills. I wouldn’t say I am a Christmas tree expert by any means, but I have learned a few things over the years.

My first lesson, and one I still don’t fully understand the logic of, was the lesson I learned the year I cut down a tree for a photoshoot, but forgot that I had to actually buy it. Somewhere it escaped me that I had to take the tree home with me until it was being stuffed into my car for the forthcoming two-hour drive. I’m not sure whatever happened to that tree. I think we ended up keeping it until June to use for crafts.  I guess the moral of the story is, make sure you have the right vehicle to transport your tree home, and a place to put it once you get there.

Another lesson was: just don’t buy a blue spruce. One year before I knew better, I was really specific that I wanted a tree that looked like it belonged in Martha Stewart Living. For the record, blue spruce isn’t one of those, but I was cold and hungry and just ready to cut anything I saw. If a porcupine could be made into a Christmas tree, it would be a blue spruce. Spruce needles became literal needles as they dried. Skip the blue spruce. Just skip the blue spruce.

There is something magical about a live Christmas tree. It is equal parts nostalgia for the images of the past, and the general peer pressure that the perfect Christmas must include a live Christmas tree. Homespun Christmas trees bedecked with homemade ornaments and shiny glass balls fill the photos of the past, making us feel that to achieve the perfect Christmas, we must have our own photo-worthy tree.

If I were to offer any form of advice for cutting a live tree it would be to be realistic about the size, and to measure – both your home and your potential tree. Your living room is a much smaller scale than what a tree looks like on a farm. It is way too easy to end up cutting a tree that you think will be perfect in your living room with its eight-foot ceilings, only to find you’ve cut a ten-foot tree.

I do believe that there is magic in the annual trip to the tree farm: the search for the perfect tree, the thrill of cutting it yourself using the hand saw, carrying it to that silly little machine that cuts off all the extra branches and wraps it in netting, and figuring out how to best secure the tree to your roof with the hope it won’t launch into oncoming traffic, Final Destination-style, as you head down the New York State Thruway at ninety miles an hour. The magic is especially tangible in those years when snow is on the ground, the sky is grey, and the chilly weather is just right. The year I took these photos we were lucky enough to find that true magic. These were taken at Bell’s Tree Christmas Tree Farm near Accord, New York.

I used to believe that a tree had to look perfect; it had to be Martha Stewart Living-level perfection. Yes, that is a common theme in my belief systems. Over the years though, I’ve realized I like trees that just feel good. Over-the-top trees that look like art installations or a clearance sale at the Hobby Lobby are fantastic and awe-inspiring, but I think the magic is in the idea that the tree is an altar to all the ornaments and memories it supports.

Many of us get lost in the quest for the perfect Christmas. We have somehow convinced ourselves that everything has to be across-the-board perfect. For many of us, we also don’t have a clue what that perfection looks like, yet we ruin the season and the holiday while on that fruitless quest. We are just racing and searching for a goal that isn’t even real. I’ve learned that Christmas is a season much more than it is a day. It is a vestige of an era where we lived slow, lived authentically, lived within our communities, and lived as families and neighbors. Christmas, in my opinion, extends well beyond the religious connotations that are oftentimes connected with it, and represents a more universal set of ideals. I’ve learned that for me, the secret to enjoying Christmas is stripping away the pomp and circumstance of perfection and truly enjoying what makes you happy during the season…be it 50 pounds of pralines and fudge, a half-dozen fake Christmas trees, an endless supply of Cozy Cabin sweaters and socks, sneaking candies from tins in the side room, seeing Santa up on the top floor at Macy’s after a stroll through Rockefeller Plaza, a trip to the Christmas tree farm, retelling the stories of cussing angels, sending cards, or simply enjoying the season with family and friends.

This year, whether it be a brand new fake tree, a worn-out fake tree, a grocery store variety “live” tree, or a freshly-cut farm tree, I urge everyone to create a Christmas tree and a Christmas season that make you happy, but for the love of God, don’t get a blue spruce.

All The White Horses - A Whimsical Christmas

Styling: Jana Roach, Vanessa Pleasants of The Vintage Whites Market,
www.vintagewhitesblog.com
Photography: Alicia Brown, www.aliciabrownphotography.com

Christmas is a magical time, especially in northwestern Montana when the snow is falling. Vanessa and I are both incredibly inspired by the colors and traditions surrounding the season, and we translated that into this bright and whimsical vintage Christmas shoot.

Carousel horses, painted white and glittered, adorned the table. Antique clocks ticked away in the tree, and sweet teddy bears kept us company as we ate. Candles flickered, and the smell of fresh juniper branches and spruce filled the air, rising from under our thick rope table runner. Our linens were wrapped with velvet bows to add warmth to the room. Vintage mismatched china in blue and gold create a warm Christmas tone for dinner. Blue is one of our favorite colors, especially for winter. We love a white winter wonderland, and blues add color without being too harsh or overpowering to a clean white palette. Nearly every Chirstmas, Vanessa decorates with some sort of blue in a house full of whites. This year, her Christmas is inspired by the vintage dishes she found, patterned with a very unique blue wheat print. While searching for vintage finds in a thrift store, Vanessa came across a carrousel horse and had a vision of one under a tree. That vision sparked the theme for the tablescape, and she later realized that the vision stemmed from the classic movie White Christmas, when the lead character opens a gift and inside is a beautiful white horse.

We used thick rope to create a runner that added great texture to the table. Simply trim a piece of cardboard to the length and width you want your runner to be, and hot glue rope strands to the cardboard until it is completely covered. You can vary your thickness if you want, but we love the look of thick rope in contrast with the soft, navy velvet bows.An old, painted dresser made a perfect buffet in the dining room. Since it is smaller than a buffet or hutch, it is the perfect match for a snug room. Store linens and silver in the drawers, and hang a wreath or garland on the mirror. Presents wrapped in craft paper, ruffled crepe paper, and velvet make for a beautiful landscape under the tree. Ribbon strung through an old watch adds a unique touch to the wrapping. Leaving bigger vintage toys unwrapped under the tree reminds us of the childlike joy and happiness of the season.

I’ve spent a majority of my winters in the northwest, which means plenty of cold weather and big winter coats. I remember the first year my family moved to Montana, we couldn’t see out of the windows because they were covered in snow. We had nine feet that year, and could sled off of our roof on to the thick piles of snow below. I can’t remember a Christmas where my parents didn’t do something special for us. They never start Christmas morning without a pot of coffee, thick pieces of bacon, or fluffy pancakes. For my brothers and I, this was torture because we had to wait until they were done eating before we could open presents. Everything was always wrapped in gorgeous coordinating colors, which inspired ideas for wrapping presents for this shoot. We always had a note from Santa hidden in the tree, and often one more surprise after all the gifts were unwrapped. I’m so thankful for the things my parents did to make Christmas special for my brother and I, and I am so excited to pass those things along to my kids one day.

Bringing the past to life with vintage touches made this shoot one of our favorites, and we were honored to use decorations that someone cherished years ago. Whether you’ve inherited or collected vintage over the years, recreate a Christmas from days gone by for a special holiday season! Wishing you and yours a merry Christmas from Vintage Whites!

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