When I grew up, I lived with my grandparents. It was a big house but we only had wood-burning stoves in two rooms, the one where we spent the days, and the one where we slept. Somewhere between those rooms there was the cold room where the Christmas tree would be. It was cold, and dark, and sparkling colored lights and smelling intensely like fir tree. And through a special kind of magic, there were presents under the tree.
I see the colored lights sparkle in the evening near the tinsel ornaments and I feel the cold and the intense pine smell (although we proudly display a plastic tree).