Many of them are rich with memories. There is the bride and groom ornament that was given to us as a wedding gift. There are ornaments commemorating the births of our two sons. There is an ornate purple blown-glass one that was chosen for me by my father. There are some feathered birds that I inherited from my mother, that were her favorites. There are many ornaments she gave me, one or more each year when I was in my twenties and early thirties - a skiing polar bear, a mouse in a nightcap in bed with a cheese, a cookoo clock. There is one that is a favorite of my sons; they chose it themselves at a Christmas tree farm. It has a hole to tuck a light inside. There are two elegant blown glass birds given to me by Tim.
The ornaments include many, many musicians; angel musicians, a devil with a banjo, Old King Cole, a pair of child musicians in jesters' caps, and a number of cherubs
There is a blown glass ball with spidery threads of glass inside, given me by a dear friend. There is a lifelike garlic from a former girlfriend of one of my sons, who had a quirky sense of humor. There is a spotted red mushroom, reputed by my sons to be the one that the king of elephants ate - and died of - in Babar. There is an embroidered ornament made by a Danish friend of my parents. There are delicate twisted glass icicles made by a high-school friend of a son. There is a ball from Akumal in Yucatan with a sea turtle on it, and one made from Mt. St. Helen's Ash. They are treasures all, the more so because each year they come from their boxes fresh again after eleven months.
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