Harry Christensen and partner Barbara Hurley have been adding Christmas decorations to their Glasgow-area home for over 12 years lighting up the house for all to enjoy. Jennifer Corbett/The News Journal
EDITOR'S NOTE: This story was first published in 2016. This house has made our 2017 must-see list of Delaware Christmas displays.
If you live near Glasgow, chances are Santa won't have an issue finding your house this year. The blinding lights, blaring holiday hymns, shivering snowmen, waving penguins and chatty Santa impostors at 73 Broadleaf Drive are tough to miss.
Nestled in this buttercream split-level with gingerbread-colored shutters are Barb Hurley, Harry Christensen, 13 cats and three pint-size dogs.
And what appears to be Kmart's entire Christmas inventory.
This isn't an episode of animal hoarders. (Blow-up hoarders, maybe).
During the day, the front yard resembles a deflated jungle of stakes, wires, amorphous nylon sacks and dim reindeer.
At night, with the flick of several switches, this slice of suburbia morphs into Disney World-meets-Vegas-wedding-chapel-meets-Smokey-the-Bear's-worst-nightmare. A penguin reclines on an igloo, Snoopy pilots a red-and-green propeller plane from an 8-foot-tall platform in the backyard, eight sets of antlers peek out from a blow-up reindeer stable, and Santa topples over on skis (blame his portliness or the brutal wind).
Shiny gold presents and even the mailbox pop open like a Jack in the Box, revealing teddy bears and a letter to Santa. Two no-nonsense Nutcrackers guard the garage, roughly 140 illuminated candy canes line the perimeter, and three glistening angels stand solemnly, dedicated to deceased family members who can enjoy the lights from up above.
That's only the half of it.
Inside, which smells more like cat than roasting chestnuts, Frosty's minions run rampant. Bundled-up, fuzzy snowmen dangle from the tree, dozens of porcelain snow babies gamble merrily in a lighted curio cabinet, and a child-size snowman wearing a Santa vest hangs out in a rocking chair, his lumpy lap claimed by an orange Tabby. (Surprisingly, the animals leave the other decorations alone).
Even the toilet seat is plastered with Santa's jolly face, the rest of his body splayed out on a bath mat.
With close-cropped red hair and ruddy cheeks, Hurley ambles from room to room, checking for dead batteries and winter's creatures deprived of their radiant glow.
"What happened here, hon? He's not lit."
The pair aren't religious — the "Christ" in Christensen's name barely registers with him — yet they share a deep affection for Christmas and enjoy watching children and adults alike experience the magic of their corner lot off Pulaski Highway.
Neighborhood kids peer outside with anticipation as Christensen readies the blowers. Their parents adore the "Christmas museum" inside.
RELATED: Our 2016 guide to most blinged-out houses in Delaware
Such moments are worth the average $300 to $500 in electric bills, the couple reasons.
"I'll keep going until I can't climb a ladder anymore," vows Christensen, a 53-year-old press operator, who spends all his free time from Thanksgiving until Santa's arrival assembling the outdoor wonderland. He grows a bushy beard for the occasion and wears an insulated one-piece.
Hurley, a retired medical billing worker who has endured six back surgeries, is relegated to glamming up the interior and is responsible for many of the couple's online finds. Her favorite retailers are Lowe's, Ronny's Garden World in Smyrna, YardInflatables.com and the Improvements catalog. An 8-foot-tall, $300 Grinch on eBay didn't make the cut this year.
All told, the couple spend about $1,000 on new Christmas decorations each year — and there's still the entire right side yard and backyard to fill.
"When you put everything away, your house looks so bare," Hurley says. Thankfully, that doesn't happen until New Year's.
As for other Christmas traditions, the couple exchange gifts (of the edible variety) with their furry children, each of whom warrants a separate stocking. Distance and work obligations prevent Hurley from seeing her two grown sons at this time of year.
Her eldest, who lived the closest and enjoyed decorating the most, died shortly before Christmas last year. Steven Messick, a diesel mechanic, was 56.
It was the first time in more than a dozen years that Hurley and Christensen didn't have the heart to decorate, leaving the 3-foot-long Christmas village boxed in the basement. A sign in the front yard explained why the house was dark.
This year, a tree honoring Messick towers in the family room, festooned with all his favorite ornaments. Outside, an evergreen sign gleams "Believe," a nod to him.
"I still haven't accepted the fact that he's not coming back," Hurley admits. On the couch, in front of her gingham-patterned wallpaper, are a pair of snow-white Christmas pillows that Messick bought while stationed in Germany with the U.S. Army.
On Dec. 25, the couple will release a "Merry Christmas" balloon in Messick's memory. They performed the same ritual on his birthday.
Hurley and Christensen met 19 years ago at a bar in Newark. The 22-year age difference was an afterthought.
Both grew up in households where Christmas decorating wasn't the main event. But that didn't stop Christensen from decorating Hurley's tiny apartment porch with reindeer lights one year.
Later, after they moved together to Belltown Woods, Christensen built a custom chimney for Santa's silhouette, drilling holes for nearly 700 lights.
He also transformed the rock garden out front into a luminous "Misfit Island" for Rudolph, Bumble the Abominable Snow Monster and other toys with low self-esteem.
"It's beautiful," neighbor Mutalub Onaneye said recently of the display. Onaneye, a Muslim, doesn't decorate for Christmas, but he appreciates having a guidepost for visitors.
Basically, no one on the block tries to compete with Hurley and Christensen. The next-door neighbors made a cheery attempt this year with a random lighted flamingo, stray penguin and two collapsed inflatables.
Hurley acknowledges that there are other blinged-out holiday homes throughout the state. (One Santa Claus Lane, also known as 1054 Red Lion Road near Bear, comes to mind). But she's most proud of Christensen's handiwork.
After she dies, Christensen jokes, he will stuff her and prop her in the living room. And then all the outdoor decorations will go to the home's next owner, Hurley threatens.
Eventually, the couple will switch to all LED lights, even though they cost beaucoup bucks, and will install security cameras to protect Santa's fleet. Over all these years, no elf has gone missing, though critters will gnaw through the extension cords.
The lights are old reliable, blazing from 6 to 9 every night, encouraging folks nearby to take the long way home.
Contact Margie Fishman at 302-324-2882, on Twitter @MargieTrende or mfishman@delawareonline.com.