Everyone always talks about–romanticizes–Christmas in New York City and I get it. Really, I do. But after living in Manhattan for so very many years, I gotta tell you, for me there is a magic in going elsewhere. In stealing away to small towns as only the Northeast can produce. There is a magic in a fully decorated house, magic in really big Christmas trees–the sort that would never fit into my small studio. Magic in lots of people being able to gather in one place. Magic in backyards with fire-pits and living rooms with fireplaces and dining room tables with stacks of Christmas tree Spode. Magic in wreaths on doors and lights on roofs and the warm glow of Christmas in the suburbs.