Gifts of Christmas past: Traditions change with moves

For years I have had fun devising unusual “Charlie Brown” Christmas trees. My last several years in Washington, I used a gigantic Montana tumbleweed for my tree, carefully boxing it up for storage the day following Santa’s midnight visit. I’ve also used twigs, various potted plants, candlesticks and imagination.

When I moved, every one of my Christmas decorations, hoarded over the years, got parceled out to new homes. I looked around my apartment for materials, ideas and inspiration. Using push pins on the four-by-five feet corkboard behind my computer desk, I created a traditional triangular “pine,"

A little this and a little that, and . . . The other tree, well, as a couple friends said, that’s a Christmas mountain! Limited to materials on hand, I stacked books on a cabinet in my living room in a vaguely triangular shape, wider than tall. I’ve seen photos of great “book trees.” Frankly, mine looked pitiful. Mine looked like an orphan plucked from a dumpster.

In desperation I grabbed a traditional Mexican tiered skirt from my closet and draped that over my books. Ah, Christmas green. Better. But a rather naked Christmas green. Again, I scanned my room. In moments I had dumped the contents of my jewelry box across my bed. Ha! Earrings! I hooked the colorful jewelry into folds of skirt, spattering my “tree” with festive décor. Even topped with a candle in an ashtray, it won’t win a prize. But it helped make Christmas more than just another day for me.

Christmas wouldn’t be Christmas without gifts. Thanks to online shopping and a helpful daughter, gifts to kids and grandkids were quickly found, selected and shipped to their destinations. The few people who are part of my daily life in Mazatlan, including the garbage-truck pick-up men and Mario, the man who delivers my 25 liter jug of drinking water, were easily gifted with moderate sums of pesos.

The only person left on my list was — myself!

You know how one home-improvement project usually leads to another? In November I painted the walls of my apartment. I was so pleased with the soft, warm salmon color surrounding me, that I decided the perfect Christmas gift for me is — more paint.

I’m fortunate. My kitchen is large, by apartment standards. One wall is cupboards. The other walls are covered floor to ceiling with white tile. Opposite the wall of cupboards, I placed two small free-standing cupboards. One had a standard boring finish, blah. The other one, old and dingy, looked like it had never been finished; looked weathered. Both had delightful decorative tile tops; that and their usefulness their only redeeming features.

Did I mention I like color? A quick trip to the Comex store (think Mexican Sherwin Williams) a mere six blocks from my casa, and voila! I’m amply armed with cans and brushes. Christmas week I painted one cupboard coral with lime green drawers. The other I slathered with turquoise and made drawer pulls from clay and buttons. And the simple wooden stand which holds the traditional ceramic water dispenser, sunflowers on a field of blue, upon which the jug sits upended, is also now lime green. Cheerful against the white tile.

While I had three brushes dipped in paints, Rudy knocked on my door with a pear crate in hand. “I thought you might like this.” “This” is now deep, black-eyed-Susan yellow and filled with spices.

While my friends back in the States were gathering recipes for Christmas turkey or ham and rolling out pie dough, I decided on simple fare: my Christmas feast would consist of a breakfast of fresh scones with Mexican hot chocolate. I bake better scones than anyone I know, including the best bakeries. And now that I’ve drank Mexican hot chocolate, none other will do. For munchies later in the day I planned to make salmon pate with fresh thinly sliced and buttered bread and aqua de tamarindo. I’m only feeding myself and I’m easily satisfied.

Planning is all well and good. What with one thing and another, the meals never quite panned out on schedule. Here it is, the final day of 2014. Christmas is past. Tomorrow opens the door to a fresh New Year. This morning I baked. Today I’m feasting on the foods I had planned for Christmas Day.

Feliz Ano Nuevo. Cheers!

(Sondra Ashton grew up in Harlem but spent most of her adult life out of state. She returned to see the Hi-Line with a perspective of delight. After several years back in Harlem, Ashton is seeking new experiences in Mazatlan, Sinaloa, Mexico. Once a Montanan, always. Read Ashton’s essays and other work at montanatumbleweed.blogspot.com. Email [email protected].)