Out with the old, in with the new. It's a bittersweet kind of day.
Maybe it's the dry heat in our apartment or the rustic French tree stand, but our Parisian Christmas trees don't last as long as their American counterparts. With our sagging tree on its last legs this morning, I ruthlessly decided that we wouldn't be able to wait until Epiphany on January 6 to take it to the recycling collection point. Relieving its brittle boughs of the Eiffel Tower keychains, red hearts, glass ornaments and twinkling lights, I remembered my mother telling me that some Christmases are extra-special. Christmas 2012 was one of those. The days have flown since our children arrived in Paris and we'll soon be hugging Philippe goodbye at Charles de Gaulle Airport when he heads back to Boston.
|"Champagne in the 18th Century". A close-up of one of the bas reliefs in the Pommery cellars.|
But before he leaves, we're going to welcome in 2013 and treasure our remaining days together.
Here's to the bright New Year and a fond farewell to the old;