Loose Laces

I'm stuffed to the gills and glad the holiday is over. Gets me another step closer to spring. Hope all of you had a most excellent holiday. Are y'all looking forward to Christmas, or dreading it—or better still—don't care one way or the other? Since all my grandchildren are grown, it is just another pain I have to endure.

The photo is of Eastern Red Cedar, and for me, is the prettiest and best fragranced tree for Christmas. I imagine the city would frown if one of these went missing from the park.

When I was little, my uncles would take me with them into the fields to find a suitable cedar tree. The best was one with a single trunk from which the cows had removed the lower limbs by rubbing them as scratching posts, and they looked much like the ones pictured here. If we didn't find such, they would usually cut down a large tree and remove the top six feet or so for Santa to place my loot beneath.

All that was left was taking turns carrying the unwieldy greenery home, and that could be a mile or more away, across hills, fields, thickets, and barb wire fences.

The last one we had like this was in 1987. I was still able to get around fairly well, and some months earlier I'd had found the perfect tree. Carolyn, JJ, and I went into the fields with a saw, and the idea was to capture, subdue, and cut down the prize. We found it and managed to get it on the ground, and I was to carry it out myself, but that sucker was heavier than I thought. Carolyn was tired and cranky, and volunteered to stay with the tree while JJ and I went for the truck to haul it out. Carolyn wasn't much of a country girl and didn't care for the walk.

By the time we got the truck and drove the long way around to the gate, Carolyn was waiting there for us with the tree. Apparently the cows came to investigate, and she—not knowing their intentions—grabbed the tree and made a run for the road. Good girl!

We got it home and trimmed out, and it brought back so many perfect memories (after so long a time, some memories were probably imagined). I took a piece of the unused trunk and whittled some shavings, retrieved twigs from discarded branches, and put it all in a potpourri pot. The scent, along with the natural aroma from the tree, filled the house with the goodness of the season.

Sadly, the entire day wasn't perfect. Just as we finished decorating the tree, the rescue squad pulled into my next door neighbor's driveway. He had a massive heart attack earlier in the day, and his wife found him dead when she came home from work.