Happy St Nicholas’s birthday, everyone! December 6 is the day the first, the original, St Nicholas/Santa Claus/Father Christmas was born somewhere in Turkey. He was a kind old boy who gave a peasant some bags of gold (allegedly dropping them down the chimney) so that he wouldn’t sell his daughters into servitude. (That’s my kind of Santa Claus!) His actions were so inspirational that people began giving gifts to each other on his birthday, to commemorate him. Over the centuries it gradually became part of the Christmas tradition. Here endeth the lesson for the day.

It looks like the Old Boy has finally finished festooning the Noble castle with Christmas lights. It’s been phased in over a couple of weeks as he’s had to wait for a spare hour here and there, cooler temperatures and the oomph…not an easy commodity to find at the end of the year. This year, after adding the final touch to the roof  he made the announcement: ‘I’m not going up there again. I’m too much of an old fart.’ I was quick to agree but I’m not sure that pleased him.

Now that some of the other houses in the street have joined in, it’s beginning to feel a bit more festive around here. We went for a drive the other night, searching for other little oases of Christmas cheer, but came home sadly disappointed. I guess people are worried about electricity bills. But, the new LED lights and the solar lights, mean that it really doesn’t cost much more. We see it as a gift to ourselves, our family and our neighbourhood.

I’m experiencing a few pangs of nostalgia for the USA. Those people sure know how to decorate. I remember the first time I had a white Christmas over there. The church service was at night on Christmas Eve. It was a magical, candle-lit service that has remained etched in my memory. When I woke up Christmas morning it was dark, cold and soooooo quiet. All the houses were decorated with lights and they sparkled in the grey, snowy air.

Funnily enough, in spite of my life-long yearning for Christmas in the snow, when it happened, it felt all wrong. I was used to waking up to the sounds of a summer  morning: magpies yodelling, little kids in the street laughing and playing, my mother yelling, “Hurry up, I want my presents!”  We would have a piece of Christmas cake and a cup of tea for breakfast, while we unwrapped our presents so that we wouldn’t be late for the morning church service. Most of the kids brought their favourite gift to church and we all compared notes while the grown-ups had another cuppa after the service. Then we’d walk home in the warm sunshine.

I’ve been blessed to have had three Christmas seasons in the USA. On our last trip we had the best of both worlds: a snowy Thanksgiving in Washington State in the north and then a warmer Advent season in Texas. I noticed on the world news last night that Dallas (near where my friends live) was only 2 degrees (Celsius) cooler than it was here in South Australia. Weird, hey?

If I had any sort of bucket list then one more trip to the USA in December would be at the top. As Christmas lights junkies, the Old Boy and I still talk about some of the decorations we saw and then we breathe a little sentimental sigh. And, I’d love to hug all the people who are special to me over there, just one more time. For, if St Nick has taught us anything, it’s that people are the most important treasures in our lives.