Under the tree, a Dutch porcelain mug, containing rum, that Mommy forgot.
A milk chocolate Adventskalender, ripped apart and strewn across the floor. Nearby, a dog is sick.
A landscape of a frilly woman's apron, flour, and sugar, and butter and cookie cutters in the shapes of elves is lit from the left, with 1930s Midwestern nostalgia.
A platter of red grapes. For now.
Hanging like Flemish grandmaster van Eyck rabbits in the dim hall closet, several pairs of flesh-red wool mittens, drying.
A silver ball on the tree, reflecting Daddy, in the other room.
In 3/4 view, the ham, is resplendent, burnt sienna, ochre and vermillion.
After Bruegels' Landscape with the Fall of Icarus, Mommy, who found her mug of rum.