Usually I peruse our garden for a Sunday picture posting, but today, I want to share the story of the Christmas quilt I have been writing about this week. It is not a great story, but it is a good enough story.
Pictured above is the quilt's label, which shows my husband (handily named "Noel"), hoisting our son (also handily named, "[St.] Nick") so Nick could implant the star on top of the tree. The Christmas-matching of these two Christmas names was entirely accidental, I swear, but it is a happy accident indeed.
So...well, here is the story as captured on the label (click to enlarge):
The Christmas star is one of the only surviving keepsakes from my childhood, and as such invokes tug-at-your-heart tears when the story of its survival is revealed. Suffice it to say that its continued existence is well near wondrous, making its yearly placement atop our tree a modern miracle.
The best block in the quilt, which, of course, I will reveal last, depicts this star-placing scene. The tree trimming party has skipped a few years now, as Nick moved to Manhattan (and back) and the logistics have been a bit dicey.
The star still finds its way to the top of our tree, and we all quietly celebrate what that means every year as The Tree Trimming Party quilt hangs on the wall.