It is time to un-festoon the Yule tree. Snotra only knows why the humans have left it up so long. Laziness, I expect. At any rate, all the trinkets and baubles and lights and what-not (oh, so much what-not!) have to come down and be stored carefully away until all the clobber is dragged out again next Yule.
Check out the ridiculous bow tie on that blonde fellow there. What a dork.
Uh, oh. This turnip is smirking and spoiling for a fight. Look, you Brassicaceous bully, we have turnips on Asgard and I know how to deal with them.
Crash! Hahahahahaha! It wasn’t me! I understand that each year there are casualties among the breakables. This year, one of the humans has clumsily dropped a plain, round ornament.
It was one of the red ones. Sigyn is quite distraught. Don’t cry, dearest. I understand that four of the original six remain…
Once the embellishments are removed, the tree itself must come down. Even though the human female professes to be very fond of plants, she never has a real tree. Can’t bear to watch them die slowly, I suppose. However, the fake tree sheds just as much as a real one, so she’ll still have the fun of finding needles for months. She is sweeping them up, along with cat hair and cookie crumbs.
I’ve saved a few to shake into her underwear drawer, and won’t she be surprised when they show up stuck to the soap in her shower–or in her yogurt???
Alas! The holiday is well and truly over. Time for all the tinsel and bits of plastic to be packed away and lodged in the attic for another year.
Hey, wait! No!