The table set for Christmas breakfast:
Easy, glorious, gooey monkey bread:
The stockings my mother made, trimmed in Mongolian fur:
The obsessive-compulsive wrapping disorder in full tilt:
Baubles and fresh pine branches, anywhere I could tuck them:
My mother’s bell jar tradition — memories held beneath glass:
(At my mom’s house):
Peppermint treats in vintage silver dishes:
And in the end, Santa came, and he had a mini mascot, too.
Thanks for sharing my memories.