My village has this advent tradition in which 24 households divvy up the 24 days leading up to Christmas. Each participating household takes one of the days and decorates a street-facing window for that day.
A newly-decorated window with the number marking the day appears each evening during the weeks leading up to Christmas. As part of the tradition, villagers go out for a stroll each evening to find and appreciate the window decoration marking that day. Once villagers find the house, the household featuring the decorated window offers its visiting neighbors pastries and tea or mulled wine and, perhaps, some good, stiff pálinka (fruit schnapps) for the men.
My family is taking part in the tradition for the first time this year (as window decorators), and we have been assigned December 6, Saint Nicholas Day. We spent some time brainstorming ideas yesterday before finally deciding upon a traditional-looking Saint Nicholas with staff in hand, a basket laden with gifts on his back, walking through the snow toward a small village.
We drew what we needed and spent the evening cutting out the white-paper silhouette components and affixing them to the inside of my son’s bedroom window, which happens to be the middle window facing the street, and then illuminated the scene from the interior windowsill. It’s nothing fancy, but I think it turned out quite well. I promise to post a photo of it after the big “reveal” on December 6.
However, what I really want to share in this post is the immense fun I had creating the window decoration. The second I began working on it, I was transported back to my childhood when I considered little projects like this a very big deal. I revisited the joy and elation at creating something for a special occasion, and as I fashioned out the figures for the window, I experienced the same childlike zeal and enthusiasm I used to when I engaged in similar activities as a boy.
Though the task itself was delightful, how the simple activity moved my spirit extended beyond that into something almost magical. I’m not sure how to describe the sensation. All I can say is that it transcended nostalgia and touched a deep-rooted but sadly neglected aspect of my innate creativity and joie de vivre.
I’m going to insist we participate in the Advent window decoration tradition every year from now on. I'm also going to focus on ways of accessing that neglected creativity and joie de vivre more often!
A newly-decorated window with the number marking the day appears each evening during the weeks leading up to Christmas. As part of the tradition, villagers go out for a stroll each evening to find and appreciate the window decoration marking that day. Once villagers find the house, the household featuring the decorated window offers its visiting neighbors pastries and tea or mulled wine and, perhaps, some good, stiff pálinka (fruit schnapps) for the men.
My family is taking part in the tradition for the first time this year (as window decorators), and we have been assigned December 6, Saint Nicholas Day. We spent some time brainstorming ideas yesterday before finally deciding upon a traditional-looking Saint Nicholas with staff in hand, a basket laden with gifts on his back, walking through the snow toward a small village.
We drew what we needed and spent the evening cutting out the white-paper silhouette components and affixing them to the inside of my son’s bedroom window, which happens to be the middle window facing the street, and then illuminated the scene from the interior windowsill. It’s nothing fancy, but I think it turned out quite well. I promise to post a photo of it after the big “reveal” on December 6.
However, what I really want to share in this post is the immense fun I had creating the window decoration. The second I began working on it, I was transported back to my childhood when I considered little projects like this a very big deal. I revisited the joy and elation at creating something for a special occasion, and as I fashioned out the figures for the window, I experienced the same childlike zeal and enthusiasm I used to when I engaged in similar activities as a boy.
Though the task itself was delightful, how the simple activity moved my spirit extended beyond that into something almost magical. I’m not sure how to describe the sensation. All I can say is that it transcended nostalgia and touched a deep-rooted but sadly neglected aspect of my innate creativity and joie de vivre.
I’m going to insist we participate in the Advent window decoration tradition every year from now on. I'm also going to focus on ways of accessing that neglected creativity and joie de vivre more often!
RSS Feed
