Regency Christmas Traditions: The Kissing Bough

In the middle ages in Europe, the kissing bough was the top of an evergreen tree hung upside-down (a symbol of the Holy Trinity) in the doorway of the home to represent heavenly blessings for the members of the household. In addition, visitors would exchange embraces with the master and mistress of the household upon arrival to demonstrate friendship and goodwill.

In Georgian times, the kissing bough is a round ball of mistletoe (wound around a circular wire), evergreens, apples, oranges, paper flowers, ribbons, colored paper and dolls representing the Mary, Joseph and the Christchild. In many places, households would vie with each to produce the most elaborate kissing bough.

The custom of stealing kisses beneath the kissing bough, or even a sprig of mistletoe hanging from the ceiling or doorway in a place where people were certain to walk beneath it, became popular in the late eighteenth century.

In A Twelfth Night Tale, the Barlows and their guests decorate neighboring Livingston House—which had been sadly neglected since Mrs. Livingston’s death several years ago—on Christmas Day, mostly because Mrs. Barlow is anxious to find a suitable way to divert the rambunctious children away from her home furnishings. While the children eagerly make paper flowers and chains at the neighbors’ home, Lucy and Andrew spend some quality time together as they set out in search of greenery for their part of the project.

Celebrate the Holidays With a Kissing Bough

History becomes real to children when they become a part of it themselves; thus the reason for Thanksgiving and Christmas pageants and plays. Creating a kissing bough for your home is a Christmas tradition the entire family will enjoy. You can use wire or oasis balls and decorate with ribbons, paper flowers, mistletoe and greenery, holly berries, and whatever you choose.

Instructions For Making a Kissing Bough
Upper Canada
Derbyshire, England
The North Pole
The Gardian (lots of family holiday projects here)

Celebrate the Release Day of A Twelfth Night Tale!

Susana is giving away a fabulous sterling silver necklace and A Twelfth Night Tale Christmas charm bracelet (silver-plated). Click here for the Rafflecopter!

About A Twelfth Night Tale

A wounded soldier and the girl next door find peace and love amidst a backdrop of rural Christmas traditions.

Without dowries and the opportunity to meet eligible gentlemen, the five Barlow sisters stand little chance of making advantageous marriages. But when the eldest attracts the attention of a wealthy viscount, suddenly it seems as though Fate is smiling upon them.

Lucy knows that she owes it to her younger sisters to encourage Lord Bexley’s attentions, since marriage to a peer will secure their futures as well as hers. The man of her dreams has always looked like Andrew Livingston, her best friend’s brother. But he’s always treated her like a child, and, in any case, is betrothed to another. Perhaps the time has come to put away childhood dreams and accept reality…and Lord Bexley.

Andrew has returned from the Peninsula with more emotional scars to deal with than just the lame arm. Surprisingly, it’s his sister’s friend “Little Lucy” who shows him the way out of his melancholy. He can’t help noticing that Lucy’s grown up into a lovely young woman, but with an eligible viscount courting her, he’ll need a little Christmas magic to win her for himself.

Available

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Excerpt
All Rights Reserved, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.
A Blush® Regency romance from Ellora’s Cave

Chapter One
The Barlow Home
near Charlbury, Oxfordshire
23 December 1813

“It’s so kind of you to call, Lord Bexley. The flowers you sent are simply lovely, are they not, Lucy?”

Unable to miss the warning tone in her mother’s voice, Lucy sat up straight in her chair and smiled sweetly at their caller.

“Oh yes indeed. They are undoubtedly the most beautiful I’ve ever received, my lord.”

Of course, she did not mention that they were the first flowers she’d ever been sent by a gentleman. And considering that there were few opportunities to meet eligible gentlemen in the quiet little neck of the woods where the Barlows resided, the arrangement was quite likely to remain the only floral tribute to come her way.

Her caller beamed with pleasure. “They were the best I could find at the florist, but of course they cannot hold a candle to your beauty and sweetness, Miss Barlow.”

Lucy swallowed and forced herself to reply. “You embarrass me with your flattery, my lord.”

“Not at all,” he insisted. “You were quite the belle of the Christmas Ball last evening, Miss Barlow. I was much envied to be allowed the honor of two dances with you when so many gentlemen had to be turned away.”

The “Christmas Ball” was merely a small celebration at the local assembly rooms. Her mother had encouraged her to favor Lord Bexley, but in truth, Lucy herself had not found him objectionable. He was an accomplished dancer and quite distinguished-looking, in spite of the fact that he had at least twenty years over her.

At eighteen, she was of an age to be out in society, and Lord Bexley, a wealthy widower from Warwickshire, was undoubtedly the most eligible gentleman in the county. Recently out of mourning, he was seeking a new wife and a mother to his three children, and as Mrs. Barlow kept telling her, Lucy should be flattered that he seemed to be favoring her for the role.

Well, she was flattered. Wasn’t she? The number of young ladies far exceeded that of eligible gentlemen, and she didn’t wish to be left on the shelf. With her family in financial difficulties and four younger sisters to be married off, Lucy knew she owed it to them to marry well and do what she could to find her sisters suitable matches as well.

She was prepared to do her duty and make the best of it, but somehow, when she thought of marriage and children, it was not the kindly Lord Bexley who came to mind. It was the face of the strapping, dark-haired Adonis with laughing gray eyes who lived on an adjoining estate with his younger sister—her bosom friend Jane—who had teased her unmercifully from the time she learned to walk. She couldn’t remember a time when she hadn’t been in love with Andrew Livingston—she’d even asked him to marry her at the age of five when he’d been twelve and about to leave for Eton. He’d laughed and quipped that it would be like marrying his sister, and she’d nursed a broken heart ever since.

She sighed as she frequently did when she thought of Andrew and his affianced wife, and her mother glared at her. Fortunately, Phillips wheeled in the tea cart and Mrs. Barlow’s attention was mercifully diverted.

“Please do the honors, Lucy. An excellent opportunity to practice your housewifely skills.”

Lucy flushed. Could her mother’s intentions be more obvious? But Lord Bexley did not seem to notice. He smiled kindly at her somewhat shaky inquiry as to his preferences, and thanked her graciously when she brought him his tea and a plate of cherry tarts.
“Quite charming,” he commented as he regarded her with obvious approval. It was unclear whether he was speaking to her or to her mother, and Lucy wasn’t sure how to respond.

Fortunately, there was a shriek followed by the sound of fierce arguing from the back rooms of the house. Lucy turned instinctively to the door, which was promptly thrust open and filled by the figure of her sister Lydia, who was breathing hard and wringing her hands in agitation.

“Do come, Lucy! Lila and Louisa are having one of their rows again, in the kitchen of all places. Lila broke one of Cook’s mixing bowls, and Cook swears she’ll leave if someone doesn’t stop them and you know you’re the only one who can, Lucy!” She flushed when she saw Lord Bexley and her mother’s angry face. “Oh…pardon me, I didn’t realize we had a guest.” She backed out into the hall, shooting Lucy a pleading look as she did so.

Relieved for an excuse to terminate the social call, Lucy muttered her excuses and scrambled out of the room. But not before she heard her mother’s mortified apology and Lord Bexley’s soothing reply that he found it quite agreeable to discover a young lady so accomplished in the maternal skills.

Goodness, he really was intent on courting her! She should be flattered. She was a sensible girl, and it was pointless to set her cap at Andrew Livingston, in any case. Lord Bexley would be an excellent match for her. His three daughters could not possibly be as troublesome as her two youngest sisters, after all.

She gritted her teeth and hurried to the kitchen, the ineffectual Lydia as usual trailing behind her. The second eldest Barlow daughter was as helpless as their mother at controlling the two youngest children. When Lucy married and left the house, as she would in time, her bookish middle sister Laura was going to have to take up the reins.

About the Author

A former teacher, Susana is finally living her dream of being a full-time writer. She loves all genres of romance, but historical—Regency in particular—is her favorite. There’s just something about dashing heroes and spunky heroines waltzing in ballrooms and driving through Hyde Park that appeals to her imagination.

In real life, Susana is a lifelong resident of northwest Ohio, although she has lived in Ecuador and studied in Spain, France and Mexico. More recently, she was able to travel around the UK and visit many of the places she’s read about for years, and it was awesome! She is a member of the Maumee Valley and Beau Monde chapters of Romance Writers of America.

Contacts

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Susana’s Parlour (Regency Blog) • Susana’s Morning Room (Romance Blog)

Rob Ford, the Toronto mayor who’s in such trouble, was asked during an on-air interview if he’d ever purchased illegal drugs. It took him eight seconds to utter a single syllable of reply. Eight seconds. That’s a really, really long time. Try it. Close your eyes and count out – one Mississippi, two Mississippi, etc. See? A long time.

We’re freaking out a little bit about the fact that it’s November 15th already. We hate to sound old here, but when did time start going so fast? Really. It’s kinda insane, right? At what age does this happen? We hypothesize it begins sometime around age 30. We’re not completely sure ‘cause some of our data is skewed. Being drunk through your 20’s will do that. We only mention that last part so you’ll have the proper perspective. We know we’re not the only ones who don’t remember our 20’s – or rather remember spending a lot of time with someone holding our hair, if you know what we mean. Now that all this has come up, we really hope our

children don’t all of a sudden take an interest in our blog. Speaking of old and children, nothing makes us feel quite as old and as aware of time passing as The Boy Who Lives at Ava’s House turning 16 today. Seems unlikely, right? We’ll distract ourselves with some funny stuff. Here we go…

1. Bobbleheads. We’ve addressed the issue with that idiot mayor in Toronto all ready. If you’re unfamiliar with this man pop on any news source and you’ll find it, no problem. The only good thing about the story is that it lets Americans know that there are moronic politicians across the globe. Often times we get the erroneous impression that the US has a lock on morons. Yea! We don’t! They’re everywhere! The good people of Toronto are prospering over this debacle by selling “Robbie Bobbie” bobblehead dolls. They’re a steal at $20 apiece. The best part is the idiot mayor doesn’t even realize they’re making fun of him and consequently you might even get one signed by the idiot himself.

2. Reporters with a sense of humor. We complain long and loud about reporters not including all the pertinent information in news articles. It’s beyond annoying, so whenever we find an article, especially an Associated Press article, written by someone with a sense of humor we’re willing to give a onetime free pass. Such an article came out of Copiague, NY this week. Apparently, there has been a horrifying shortage of knishes due to a fire in a knish factory. Who knew that one factory supplied all of the knishes. That seems like a money making idea for some enterprising young person with more time and energy than the Sisters. Anyway, the headline read, “Kvetcing (sp) over lack of knishes to end soon.” That was amusing enough to get us to read further – and let’s be honest, it was about food so the likelihood that we’d read further anyway was excellent. The best line reads as follows, “A fire at a factory billed as the world’s biggest maker of knishes has created nationwide shock and oy…” BLAhahahahahaa. That’s brilliant. Well played, AP. Well played.

3. More animals we need. We present to you the Pink Fairy Armadillo. We didn’t even make that name up. Seriously. Google it yourself. The name caught our eye and when we found the info on it we fell in love. These little cuties only grow to a maximum of 5 inches long and weigh less than a pound. At that rate, we’ll be able to stuff ten or twelve of them in our pockets for the trip home. They live in sand and eat ants. AND THEY’RE PINK! Notice the fuzz under the shell. It’s described as soft, fine hair. What part of this animal is not appealing? They might even have magical powers, they’re so freaking cute. We’re organizing a trip to Argentina. You in?

4. Weird damn art. It just so happens that we love this piece. It’s seriously adorable. It’s official name is Balloon Dog (Orange) by Jeff Koons and its constructed out of stainless steel. It’s fun and light and makes you feel happy – so long as you can avoid thinking about clowns when you look at it. Clowns are creepy whether they make balloon animals or not. Anyway, the reason we bring up Balloon Dog is because it just sold for 58.4 million dollars. MILLION. That makes Mr. Koons the proud record holder of “the most expensive work by a living artist sold at auction.” We cannot fathom who these people are that can afford 58.4 million dollars for a sculpture. Honestly, if they have that much God damned money we have a trip to Argentina that needs a sponsor.

5. Other unusual pets. Last week there was a report of a small alligator being found at Chicago’s O’Hare airport, under an escalator. It made the news because everyone was pondering how an alligator just happened to wander into one of the busiest airports in the county undetected. Well, thanks to Big Brother we know where the scaly dude came from. A woman has been found via surveillance cameras with it on the El. The Blue Line to be specific and getting off at O’Hare. When she got back on the train there was no alligator. There’s all kinds of conjecture about why she’d be on the train with an alligator in the first place. Well, how the hell else do you expect her to get from one place to the other with her alligator? People are worrying about all the wrong things. What they need to be worrying about is why she’d have an alligator in the first place. We don’t approve of animals that aren’t fuzzy. In general, they’re a bad idea. Our spouses are overjoyed at this news. They can mark alligators off the list of potential reasons we’re being monitored by the FBI.

Is it wrong that this makes our uterus cramp up?

We really, really need a kitten. A mountain lion kitten. Make sure you have your volume up so you can hear this. This is epic purring, people.

We immediately went to this site – bigcatrescue.org to look for an application. Can you believe there’s no place on that web site to apply for employment? If they think that sad fact is going to dissuade us, they’re sorely mistaken.

I’m feeling very Amylynn-ish today about my upcoming BIRTHDAY. I want everyone to know it’s on Dec 4th – which is a Wednesday this year.

“Why? You ask, is that important? You’ve never mentioned your birthday before now. What gives.”

Well, it’s not because I’ll be turning 49 and can thereby really make people help me because I’m “almost 50”. Not that Amy ever falls for that. Or my kids – they never fall for that either. Instead I have to rely on the kindness of strangers. But I digress.

I mention it because Wednesday involves Camels. CAMELS. As in HUMP day. Camels have humps, that’s how that started – just so you know. And they now star in the wildly popular worldwide beloved Geico commercial. Did I mention my birthday is on a Wednesday? Do whatever you have to do to remember that because I want a camel. A CAMEL. I’ve always wanted a camel and now’s my chance, right? Right.

I don’t care where you get him from but he’d better be at my office on Wednesday, December 4th. Don’t forget.

Thank you, Veterans, for all that you’ve done, all that you do, and everything you give.

Honest to God. There should be a law that they have to call you before you leave for your lunch hour to inform you that the doctor is running seriously behind schedule. Nothing is more irritating that spending 48 minutes in an office lobby waiting.

We had an assistant during pumpkin carving this evening.

It’s quite nice that he’s orange don’t you think? Very festive.

This montage of entitled cats proves my point.