…to be jolly; falalalalah, la lah-lah-lah! On Saturday, Jill and I harvested boughs of holly, with which to deck our halls. Yuletide is nearly upon us.
Our neighborhood is a festival of lights, from the very simple to the more ambitious, to a coveside extravaganza. My favorite display is over on Stoddard’s Wharf Road, where a fellow has decorated his Ford pickup, keeping company with an electric snowman.
Automobiles as seasonal yard art are fairly common. A farm stand over in Wallingford attracts autumn customers with a 1929 Chevy, and entertains with machinery inside the barn (there’s a tractor in there somewhere). A guy in Vermont finds his Crosley a perfect companion for goblins at Hallowe’en. Over in Watertown, at the Peter Cura salvage yard, they light up their Chevy truck every Christmas.
Some people make their cars into highway greetings. These range from subtle to trite to rolling greenery.
Our decor is simple: a rustic wreath, that I make myself, beside the door, and some modest lights up on the housetop. We don’t decorate our cars, but Angus the Hudson is nevertheless excited. He’s already hung his stocking by the Motometer with care.
