A View of the Valley

by Linda Schwanke ‘Tis the holiday season. Homes and halls are decked to the max with holly and lights and glitter. While I am not personally a fan of holiday lights, I am willing to admit that the Valley is beautiful in the evenings all lit up. We’ve decked our halls at home, too, without the outside lights. Each year we haul out the tubs of Christmas decorations and fill the house with holiday cheer. Each bit and bob of the decorations has a special memory that I cherish and I spend a moment remembering the history of all them as I get ready to make the house look like Christmas threw up. This year is no exception. Although I normally unpack everything on the dining room table and distribute it from there, with a three-year-old with the reach of an orangutan or octopus, I decided to clear off the kitchen counters, pile everything on them and go from there.  Daughter Gwen, granddaughter Mildred and I spent more than a couple joyful hours at the task of decorating our home to within an inch of its life. Gwen was up on a ladder, I was digging into each tub and Mildred was helping me. (Hubby Jim used to help but these days tends to put up the wreath, then go hide in the garage with a project or the bedroom with a book. I don’t really blame him. Things got a little wild.) I have a collection of Santa’s. Some belonged to my mom. Some were gifted to me. Others belonged to dear friends no longer with us. There’s quite a few. I decided to give the unbreakable ones to Mildred to place around the house. I figured it would keep her busy while I decided where to put the porcelain and china ones. I would hand her a Santa, she would run off with it, come back empty handed and ask for more. I eventually followed her to see where she was putting them. She had carefully placed them all in a group on her little project table. I said we should put them all around the house and she said no because they were friends and wanted to be together. Ok. I went through this when Gwen was small. She always grouped ornaments on the tree together so they wouldn’t get lonely. There is no longer room for Mildred to do projects on her table but the Santa’s are happy.  Next up were the nativities. Again, I’ve amassed a large collection of them. One of my favorites was from The Flower Shop and Village Gifts, which Yvon Notbohm had where Arcadia is now. It was a white snow globe with a clear bubble filled with snowflakes. It was also a music box and played Ode to Joy. I am using the past tense for this particular item because it had an accident.  I made a point of keeping all the breakable ornaments out of reach of Mildred as I worked. At least I thought I did. She was at the table with that particular nativity set on the counter as I was unpacking more nativity sets. I turned my back for like two seconds and heard a loud pop. There sat Mildred with what had been the snow globe nativity at her feet. She started crying, mostly because the thing breaking was really noisy, I think. I grabbed her and checked her from head to toe to make sure that when the glass shattered it didn’t hurt her. Gwen and Papa came running and pulled off Mildred’s clothes, which were soaking wet, and tried to get her settled. She was crying so hard we were afraid she’d gotten cut but except for being scared and upset she was fine.  Then I turned to the mess to clean it up. Turns out that snow globe wasn’t filled with just water – it was mixed with something sticky like maybe glycerin. It was everywhere. And the snowflakes, which turned out to be glitter, were all over everything. Hours later, after wiping, sweeping, vacuuming and mopping, the mess was cleaned up. Except for the glitter. It stuck to the table and the floor and is on the clothes Mildred and I were wearing and refuses to go away. I kind of hate glitter.  If you or a small loved one are a fan of Peppa Pig, a cartoon that is very sweet, there is a hilarious episode about glitter. The school teacher, Madame Gazelle, is having the children (all little critters) make a craft project. The children beg for glitter. She hesitates until finally they wear her down. Madame Gazelle opens what looks like a bomb-proof safe after securing promises from the children that they will be careful. Then she brings out the glitter and in the blink of an eye there is glitter everywhere.  A friend of mine shared a meme that I like. It says, “Coronavirus – explained in craft terms. You and 9 friends are crafting. 1 is using glitter. How many projects have glitter?” The answer is all of them. Be safe. Avoid glitter. Wear a mask and keep us all safe. Stay in touch. My number is 574-3159. Email me at homenewseditor@newspubinc.com or write to me at the Home News, P.O. Box 39, Spring Green WI 53588.  The news deadline is 12 noon on Mondays.