The kitchen is closed for the holidays. We’ll be back next week with a new recipe, something new on the boombox and more. In the meantime, a quick word about big and little celebrations of the season.

The house in the picture above is an example of big. It’s in our Logan Square neighborhood in Chicago. The people living here have done this for years now, and every year it gets more involved. It now includes sound and a small working ferris wheel. People come from all over to see it; in fact, I was only able to photograph it sans a steady stream of cars because I went late at night when it was about zero degrees out, with winds gusting to 50 miles an hour.

We call the place Harry Potter’s House. When it’s not festooned with more lights than a small town, you can see the two huge bronze dragons flanking the front door and the giant fountain out front covered with little birds and perhaps more dragons. Obviously the residents favor flamboyance and celebrating in a big way.

At the opposite end of the celebration spectrum is the small, beautiful poem below by American poet e.e. cummings. I remember first hearing it when I was a child. One of the many teachers who touch our lives more than we know at the time read it to our second or third grade class. Poems were of course supposed to rhyme, so I thought she was reading us a story.

I rediscovered it in college when I stumbled on cummings’ amazing poetry, thanks to another teacher. Only this person wasn’t really a teacher—he ran a small bookstore near school. He sold my girlfriend and me only a handful of books over our many visits, but he spent countless hours sitting and reading poetry to us.

I’m embarrassed to say I don’t remember either of these wonderful teachers’ names. But I will always remember the wonderful gifts they gave me. One of them was this poem.

little tree
little silent Christmas tree
you are so little
you are more like a flower
who found you in the green forest
and were you very sorry to come away?
see i will comfort you
because you smell so sweetly
i will kiss your cool bark
and hug you safe and tight
just as your mother would,
only don’t be afraid
look the spangles
that sleep all the year in a dark box
dreaming of being taken out and allowed to shine,
the balls the chains red and gold the fluffy threads,
put up your little arms
and i’ll give them all to you to hold
every finger shall have its ring
and there won’t be a single place dark or unhappy
then when you’re quite dressed
you’ll stand in the window for everyone to see
and how they’ll stare!
oh but you’ll be very proud
and my little sister and i will take hands
and looking up at our beautiful tree
we’ll dance and sing
“Noel Noel”

—e.e. cummings

Whatever holiday you celebrate and whether you celebrate it big or small, I hope it’s filled with wonderful moments and memorable gifts. I’ll see you next week. Or as we used to say in grade school and think ourselves the kings and queens of wit, “See you next year!”