Christmas Santa Geese....or Rudolph Geese... or...

I came across an article from the New York Times about how some home owners are going a little over the top in the race to have the biggest, brightest and over the top Christmas lighting. I have to say it was interesting. I for one like to see houses lit up at Christmas. I was one of those people who went to neighborhoods that were decorated for Christmas, to see the special lights. I even took my residents to those neighborhoods when I was an Activities Director. This was some of the highlights of our Christmas season. Anyway, in exploring this article they sent me to a special blog created to display the tacky decorations that people have put up at Christmas. I don't agree with a lot of the pics they chose but I do have to say the hanging deer from the tree is a little disturbing.

Anyway, if you go to the bottom of the blog about tacky Christmas yards, you will find a yard ornament that is totally unrelated to Christmas. The dog... I have to laugh about this wonderful yard ornament as it brings back a few memories about when our family moved to Ohio. Prior to Ohio, we lived in San Diego. Sometime before Christmas I received a small catalog of wonderful gifts that one was able to purchase. In it was a wonderful full size cement goose. Now I had never seen anything like these geese before and I really thought they were rather pretty. We decided that it would cost way to much for them to be shipped all the way to California so I never got one.

A year later we were in Ohio. Every house we passed had a cement goose on it's front porch it seemed. What was more ridiculous was that they dressed the goose in holiday attire or in outfits that were somewhat... uhmmmm.... well.... our neighbor made these outfits and sold them at the local swap meets and craft fairs. She made geese outfits that would look like bees, or bugs, or witches, or leprechauns etc. Even Santa. Yes, the goose had a fake beard... How do you describe that? I thought I had died and gone to tacky heaven. Before long the goose became a lament... Please Lord show me some artful taste.... please some originality... some thought!! So when my husband wanted to tease me he simply threatened to buy me a cement goose. I threatened to tie it to his feet and dump him the swamp that was beside our house..For four years this was an ongoing joke at our house. Dan eventually did buy me a goose but it is hand painted ceramic and it is truly beautiful. And it does not where clothes no matter what season.

The following story was taken from Senior Citizens Magazine.com. She Wore a Pink Tutu By Carol Kehlmeier

“Call the police!”

I looked up as Husband came charging through the door.

“Somebody took my baby goose.”

For some unexplainable reason our neighborhood takes pride in their concrete geese. These inanimate creatures are on lookout from porches, steps, lawns, and at the end of driveways.

There is a rivalry between the masters of the geese to see who can dress their goose the most fashionably. Husband went one step further and acquired a concrete gosling to stand next to his Mother Goose.

“Call 911 and report the theft.” He sputtered.

“Who would steal that dumb cement duck?” I asked.

“Concrete goose! And she was wearing her pink tutu.”

“I can understand your concern,” I said sarcastically. “That pink tutu was the envy of the neighborhood.” I chuckled. “You want an all points bulletin?”

“Call before she gets too far away.”

“It’s a cement goose! Where is it going?”

“Call the newspaper. People need to know what’s going on around here.” He scowled.

“I can see the headline now...Gosling Gets Grabbed; Owner Pleads for Safe Return.” I giggled.

“She was here last night.” He waved his arms in the air. “She’s not here this morning.”

“It’s been goosenapped. This is a case for the FBI.” I groaned. “Who would steal a cement duck?”

“Goose.”

“Whatever.”

“In a pink tutu,” he added.

“Maybe we should report the goosenapping to the insurance company. How much is the duck worth?” I smirked.

“Goose in a pink tutu. Stealing a man’s property right out of his yard; that’s trespassing, too!”

“ We’ll get you a new baby goose.” I patted his cheek. I don’t want a new one. Everyone admired her pink tutu.”

“You don’t care about that poor baby. All you care about is her costume.” I held back my laughter.

“You don’t know what they’ll take next. Maybe one of your garden angels.”

“I bet there’s a goose ring. They come by in the wee hours, drug the goose, then goosenap her. Your goose is probably ‘stoned’ and being held for ransom.” I chuckled.

The telephone rang and Husband made a beeline for it. “Is she OK?” His eyes brightened. He stood taller. “Thanks, Harry.” He replaced the telephone. “They found her at Conley’s.” He heaved a sigh.

“No ransom?” I asked, trying not to laugh. He grumbled.

“Thank heaven, she’s out of harm’s way. And the tutu?”

“A little dirty, but OK.” He headed for the door.

In my mind I saw a gaggle of concrete geese in some remote warehouse. Goosenappers were discussing an appropriate ransom while geese masters waited anxiously near telephones.

I went to check on my garden angels.

Christmas lights on Whidbey Island.