It’s way too early in the season for the holiday hype

Overnight, storefronts and houses apparently were touched by some fairy godmother’s wand that draped eaves with icicle lights, wrapped columns with garlands of greenery and hoisted onto streetlight posts giant wreaths with shiny red bows. That’s not to the mention the Frostys or Santas, suddenly blown up in front yards, or the grazing deer constructed of wire and lights or the artificial trees blinking in banks and restaurants

Before the turkey wishbone had time to dry out on the windowsill, the holiday season erupted – exploded – like an uncorked bottle of champagne.

It was as if all muzzleloaders fired in unison and the race was on, a race made fiercer this year because the Thanksgiving holiday spilled like gravy onto the month of December.

Causing folks to be frenzied – even more so – than usual.

The whole scenario could have been predicted, if by nothing else, by department store ads, which have sensed the urgency – and effectively communicated it: Early shoppers save dearly; that’s “early” with a “d” for those of us who get the message.

Then the price of eggs soared, which only an astute consumer would have connected with: ‘Tis the season, the season for eggnog, for giblet gravy, for pecan pie or mincemeat tarts. Each summer when berries are bountiful, sugar mysteriously crystallizes in price before shrinking into granules. And so it goes.

Perhaps it’s the fault, or not, of sluggish – overwrought, overfed, overindulged – chickens, but for some reason a dozen eggs that cost 39 cents an Easter or so ago rose to 89 cents a month ago and more than $2 last week.

As well, we could have predicted a harried December by the stacks of boxes at UPS centers across the horizon and from the U.S. Postal Service’s admonitions to mail early for assurance sake. And from the promotions of amaryllis bulbs in boxes high on Home Depot or Wal-Mart shelves – bulbs one never spots until the very day when peppermint candies blanket counters and chocolate-covered cherries emerge from dormant cellars.

From now till Christmas, maybe an amaryllis or cactus will produce spectacular blooms; certainly, those velvety red or ivory poinsettias will. It’s as clear as Salvation Army bells: This is to be one fast-paced, purchasing pursuit -the likes of which we haven’t seen.

Since last Christmas.

Filene’s Basement in Boston provided proof in the pudding, so to speak.

There, crowded in front of a single mirror, four women – clad in swimsuits under their ordinary clothes – tried on dress suits, lingerie and ball gowns, taking notice of sale prices and dressing room lines but none to other shoppers who stopped grabbing long enough to gawk.

To my taste, it’s way too early in the season for hype. Should there be any serious predictions, however, I’d select a hopeful segment of a familiar rhyme:

“That year that Christmas day falls on Thursday, winter will be good, spring windy, summer good, vintage good and plenteous …

“There shall be peace and princes shall die.”