Miz Judge Oaf has been infected once again by her annual holiday Christmas craft fetish. As a result, our house looks like it has received the attentions of an eggnog-pickled Martha Stewart. Every craft shop, yard sale and outlet store between here and Waxahatchie, Texas should have us on their Christmas card list because of the amount of holiday craft stuff we've got out this Christmas.

Miz Judge Oaf is determined that our little house on the hill will be an example of the true "Appalachian Christmas". This means that every nook and cranny has some kind of rustic knick-knack, home-made doily, or ornamental trompe l'oeil supposedly depicting the spirit of our "Nawth Kalina" mountain heritage. And it's not just limited to inside the house, either.

For instance, right now, there is a miniature sleigh with eight tiny reindeer down by the mailbox at the end of our driveway. The sleigh is an old coal scuttle with two ornamental scroll workings (which she dug out of a contractor's rubbish pile four months ago) for runners. The eight tiny reindeer are constructed of pieces of wood, dowels and twigs. Finally, there's a Santa woven out of old honeysuckle vines sitting in the sleigh, one hand aloft waving at passersby. An old flour sack behind him loaded with sticks and pine cones completes the tableau. Well, the whole thing looks like it ought to be filling my wood stove, instead of lurking with intent on my front lawn. But, what the heck, it's only for a couple of weeks, and if it makes Miz Judge Oaf happy, who am I to deny her?

The centerpiece of Christmas at our house is, not surprisingly, the Christmas tree. This year, it's a six-foot Colorado spruce from Conley Scalf's tree farm over in Roan Mountain. Thick, bushy, and heavy with sap, it makes the whole house smell like Christmas. Conley was kind enough to leave a substantial root-ball on this future monarch of the hills, so it'll be getting an honored place on my property, instead of feeding the New Year's bonfire.

The hanging of the ornaments on the tree is an annual surprise, because Miz Judge Oaf always creates a fresh batch for each new tree. This year's theme is apparently "Things You Can Make Out Of Clothespins, Paints, and A Hot Glue Gun". There were two bushel baskets full of 'em.

Well, it took over two hours to hang all the decorations Lots of little people, animals, and a particularly ingenious peacock now adorn our tree, with the ribbons and popcorn strings garlanding it round about. Very impressive, very rustic, and, oddly, very "Christmas-y". Miz Judge Oaf circled the tree, like da Vinci eyeing the still-wet "Mona Lisa", checking for any possible flaws in its composition. A push here, a rearrangement there, another ornament moved up, and, yes!, we were finished. Finally satisfied, she announced that she was going to lie down for a while before starting supper, and that my job was to pack up the empty boxes and put them back up in the attic.

Well, I was just putting the last of the boxes and bags away, when I heard a melodious "Honeyyy..." wafting down the hall from our bedroom. Now, when Miz Judge Oaf says "Honeyyy..." in that tone of voice, it hits me right in the libido. Zoom! I was out of the attic, down the hall, and into the bedroom in record time.

And what to my wondering eyes should appear, but Miz Judge Oaf, languorously reclining on our four poster, clad only in popcorn garlands and ribbons, a crown of mistletoe and holly braided through her long, chestnut hair. Her big, beautiful 40 D's, freshly oiled, were quivering slightly (anticipation?), a sappily grinning clothespin Santa ornament depending from each engorged nipple. "I thought you'd like to sample some of MY Christmas cheer before supper", she purred huskily, and patted the bed beside her for emphasis.

Sorta gives new meaning to "O Come, All Ye Faithful", doesn't it?

Merry Christmas to you all.

Court's adjourned.

Judge Oaf
Senior Judge of the Superior Court of the BE-Archive