Advent Calendar Day 11
There are few rituals more universally beloved than trimming the Christmas tree. Children feel the gravity of responsibility when entrusted with a particular ornament, while adults rediscover the simple, uncomplicated pleasures of the season—that rare permission to be enchanted by something as ordinary as glass and ribbon catching the light.
The traditions surrounding evergreens stretch back into antiquity, their symbolism ancient and layered, but the Christmas tree as we know it today emerged in sixteenth-century Germany. It remained a relatively modest custom until Prince Albert of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha brought it to the British court in the 1840s. When illustrations appeared showing Queen Victoria, Albert, and their children gathered around a decorated fir tree, the tradition exploded in popularity. What had been regional became aspirational. The Christmas tree grew increasingly elegant, its decoration evolving into a cherished family ceremony that bridged generations.
Today we live in an era of overwhelming choice. Every decorating trend and cultural tradition is accessible through shops and screens; we’re simultaneously exposed to Scandinavian minimalism, American maximalism, French elegance, and everything in between. This abundance can feel paralyzing, but it also offers freedom: your tree can be exactly what brings you joy, unburdened by anyone else’s expectations.
My main tree this year carries the sweet inspiration of mint chocolate—warm browns and soft beiges grounded by various shades of mint green. None of the ornaments are particularly expensive or old, yet bringing them together into one harmonious palette gives me immense satisfaction. They hold special fascination for Mimi, my trusted feline companion, which means I’ve learned never to invest in precious or fragile pieces. This way, when something inevitably shatters (and something always does), I feel no loss—only the pleasant anticipation of finding or creating something new for next year’s tree.
This season I’ve added a second, smaller tree in the bedroom. Since I spend most of my winter evenings reading in bed, it seemed only right that this space should feel festive as well. The decorations here are more whimsical and playful—deliberately unbreakable so Mimi can investigate to her heart’s content. This tree reflects my reading mood during December: I lean toward tales of imagination and childlike wonder, stories of Father Christmas and faithful elves, narratives that embrace magic without cynicism.
Both trees will remain up through the first days of January, quiet companions through these darkest weeks. They serve as constant reminders of joy and celebration—honoring the year that has passed while offering a luminous welcome to the one approaching.
Until tomorrow, dear friends—may your tree trimming be filled with delight, and may you find exactly the ornaments that make your heart glad.
Written by Alexandra Poppy
Writer, reader & curator of The Ritual of Reading
I’m Alexandra, the voice behind The Ritual of Reading. Somewhere between a stack of novels and a half-finished pot of tea, I keep finding traces of the life I want to live—slower, richer, filled with stories. The Ritual of Reading is where I gather what I love: books that linger, places with a past, and rituals that make ordinary days feel a little more meaningful. I write from Paris, where elegant bookshops and old-fashioned cafés offer endless inspiration—and I share it here, hoping it brings a spark to your own days, too.
