The silly season

This year I’m not being silly about it. Last year I had extreme post-festive payback. As March rolled around and I emerged from the dungeon of very low functionality, I concluded It Wasn’t Worth It. This year I’m setting boundaries, mostly with myself. I’m generally the culprit who needs reigning in. I’m in a prolonged crash anyway so it’s not too hard.

No writing of cards, no presents – the functional time involved in selecting, online shopping and wrapping is just too much. No meals with hordes of people. People are more than welcome at our place, but they have to bring the tucker.

Yes to a decorated tree, eating far too much, and our annual tradition of a short evening drive to see the lights on people’s houses. By evening the stinking heat of the day has subsided a little, and you gotta get out sometimes. You gotta get out so you can try to figure out who or what 'Shelby' is (the family dog?), and be impressed that the same household loves Holden so very much.

I just love unabashed enthusiasm. There’s something about the effort people go to in putting up all these lights that’s absolutely heart-warming.

There’s one house that’s my favourite. I tried to take a photo but it turns out it’s quite hard to photograph lights, especially from a moving car. In many ways the display is more unassuming than others, but they have strings of white fairy lights draped on some kind of frame over their whole yard, creating a magical twinkling ceiling. The owners always stand out the front, and if you drive past slowly, the man calls out, “You’re welcome to come in and have a look!”

For obvious reasons I’ve never gotten out to have a look. But every year I call out the car window, “Yours is my favourite!”

‘Tis the season.