My mother decorates every room, nutcrackers on shelves, ornaments on tables, lights threaded through corners and stairways. The nutcrackers come from a family love for The Nutcracker story, a shared tradition that has grown over time. Year after year, more appear, until they quietly occupy every corner of the house, living rooms, bedrooms, hallways, even bathrooms.

There is always more than you expect, and even when it feels chaotic, it remains warm rather than overwhelming.

The space feels lived-in and full, layered with objects gathered over many winters and brought back out each season. Decorations aren’t placed to impress or follow a theme. They return to familiar spots because that is how it’s always been done, guided by memory rather than intention.

Being here feels familiar and grounding. The comfort comes from repetition, the same rooms, the same figures watching from the shelves, the same rituals repeated every December. Nothing is minimal, and everything adds to a sense of warmth and closeness. This is how Christmas looks to me: layered, abundant, and deeply comforting.