Plundering the Tree

Our first snow of the season arrived on December 26th, missing a white Christmas by just a few hours. We had two weeks of fantastic fun, as the holidays seemed longer than ever - days blending together as, at every opportunity, we made the most of the white hills and the frozen sea for sledging and skating.

Then, all of sudden, it's gone. Melted away with the last day of vacation before school starts once more and children are thrown back into their routines again.

With the end of the snow, the Christmas decorations and holiday memories are packed away for another year. The tree is stripped bare, of all but the candies and chocolates left to dangle off the branches in their shiny wrappers. And then the 13th night of January arrives. A time in Sweden when we celebrate with a last seasonal feast.

In other countries, Christmas is well and truely over by the Twelfth Night (the Feast of Epiphany). But for the Swedes and the Finns, they prefer to stretch their Christmas by an extra week, thinking it's a shame to do away with the Christmas lights while the winter is still so bleak outside. So we give outselves another week until January 13th. This, in Sweden, has the name's day of Knut, and so is our popular expression this day "tjugondedag Knut" ("twentieth day Knut"). The family gathers, eats, toasts, and sings. At the end of the evening, when the children have waited impatiently with their eyes fixes firmly on those bright candies, it's time to throw out the tree.

Yes, here in Skåne, the Christmas tree is bid farewell in true style. Placed in the centre of the room, each family member must join hands and surround the tree. Traditional songs are sung, and I still marvel and just how well my bilingual children remember each and every word so well. A whole year has gone by since we sung these songs, how can they possibly know these tunes? Meanwhile, mom still struggles with the melody. Not that it really matters, my voice can't be heard amongst the numerous family members present, belting out the songs and swinging the children high in the air at the same time. How they love it.

Finally, out of breath and out of tunes, the children reach up for the candy bags that have been tantalizing them for the last few hours.

Then the chanting starts. Followed by clapping and stamping of the feet, we take the tree and literally throw it out the door. That's it. Christmas over. The 13th of January is undeniably the octave of Epiphany.

Great, we can at last sweep away the pine needles and pack away the nativity scene that this year, faired quite well. We only broke one peice and that was one of the angel's wings. Glued together you can hardly notice - just as the tail of the Donkey was fixed on so carefully last year. A few days later, when there really is no sign of Christmas left in the house, my mind turns to Spring.

Hold on. It's starting to feel rather chilly out... Oh no!! minus 5 degress centigrade and here comes the snow - again. Thicker and deeper than before. And overnight our streets and gardens are transformed once again. "It's looks like Narnia!" says my little son, excitedly. Comparing the white of the forests with a trailor he had seen of the new movie out this month at the theatres. Oh, more snow, I thought rather deflated.

For a while I was rather depressed. I'm a hot-weather person at heart and was longing for the first sign of Spring.

However, the weekend started and it was so very, very cold. But true to Swedish style, we took the right clothing and headed out. Two hours later, under the blue skies and bright sunshine, none of us were cold. Just sledging, and sliding, and trekking, and the building of a magnificent igloo. And trying to capture as much as we could on camera. Our best fun ever in the snow, as it turns out.

So I guess I should rest my complaint and enjoy the season. After all, we did choose to live here. And that Scandinavian lifestyle kind of grows on you...