Christmas where I live

Bluemilk has been posting some photos of Christmas where she lives. Here are a couple of mine.

You may recall last year we compromised on the Christmas Tree by purchasing an olive sapling. The kid was happy with it at the time. This year when I reminded him that the scrawny little olive tree we were in the process of repotting was in fact our Christmas Tree he gave me a Look. It’s a look we get often, a look that says “how the fuck did I get stuck with these half-arsed parents?”. But then he threw himself into making the best of it.

We’ve harvested the garlic and left it to dry out under cover. I’ve also pruned the oregano and hung the prunings from the rafters in the Bloke’s office. There are jokes about getting in touch with our mediterranean ancestors (we have none).

While the shorts and singlet may be strictly a southern hemisphere Christmas tradition, the acquisition of lego is pretty common across wealthy nations. Note the crate of lego (some new, some vintage) behind the kid.