...
My child poet picked out the letters
On the grey stone,
In silver the wonder of a Christmas townland,
The winking glitter of a frosty dawn.
...
I nicked six nicks on the door-post
With my penknife's big blade—
There was a little one for cutting tobacco,
And I was six Christmases of age.

My father played the melodeon,
My mother milked the cows,
And I had a prayer like a white rose pinned
On the Virgin Mary's blouse.

From Patrick Kavanagh's poem, A Christmas Childhood. The whole poem is lovely, and can be read here. The photo was taken out our back door Sunday morning. The camera couldn't quite catch the sparkle in the branches...