Less is More

Last year, after a rodent family bunked up inside the Christmas tree storage bin, our tree rained turds when I opened up the branches. The artificial tree, at nearly 25 years old, had lived a good life, even though the stand had been broken for years and we had to stabilize the tree using a trash can full of rocks.

We had thought we’d be living in the cabin this Christmas, so we didn’t worry about catching any post-Christmas sales on trees. A strand of solar powered lights sounded like a fun and surprisingly affordable way to “spruce” up a thorny Bradford pear in the absence of a good old fir tree.

But as we are still in our old, drafty, much-loved house, and since we needed to purge some books, we decided on a book tree. I didn’t construct it alone–a good friend with experience and a knack for balancing books is why it’s still standing on our unlevel floor.

It was harder but more fun than anticipated, and other than the nice leather-bound books and the Jane Austen tree topper, it’s made up of books we are getting rid of. Some of the books are duplicates, some we had read but did not intend to again, and others are only a library or a click away should we regret our parting. It’s only about 300 or so of the roughly 1800, but it was a serious start.

Last year I culled our Christmas decor, and this year less is more. We kicked off our holiday movie list with Charlie Brown, a reminder that it’s not outward appearances or commercialism that make meaning. We felt it was a fitting first movie for our little Ariel.

I’m the kid that collected scores of stuffed animals and named each one. I had a rock collection, a stamp collection, and to this day I have my threadbare Blanky. I still regret my decision in 3^rd grade to sell my Care Bear collection in a garage sale. As I grew up, I continued to surround myself with things that were special to me, whether a postcard, a painting, or a pressed flower.

My astrological sign is Cancer—the crab with pinchers. I like my shell and, by extension, my home—it’s a reflection of who I am and the things I value. I need that space to be a place of rejuvenation or else the pinchers come out.

My senior year of high school, our house caught on fire. I didn’t lose my possessions, but the experience made me ask what was really important. Had we lost everything, what would I have wanted to save? Aside from the obvious answer, my family, there weren’t very many things that made that list—a Swedish plate my grandmother gave me for a watercolor palette, my grandma’s handwritten book of poems, my mother’s quilt.

I’ve spent a lot of energy over the years sifting through my possessions and paring them down. It’s hard to choose what isn’t making the cut; it’s much easier to decide what is.

In a tiny cabin, there will only be room for the essentials and a few of my favorite things. Here’s what is on that list:

My grandmother’s oil painting on barn wood of two bluebirds.

Oil Painting of Bluebirds - Jackie Guerin