This is our year for colored lights—the big old-fashioned kind. Although they started as my husband's choice (next year the white lights will be for me), I find myself loving them as much as he does. For me, their attraction is not the comfort of childhood memories. It is their bulk—their weight and their size. In contrast to the ethereal quality of the twinkling of the small white lights, these bulbs are of this earth. They echo the evergreeness of the tree and its elemental power of life in the midst of winter darkness.
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