Among other symptoms of the post-Christmas blues is Christmas tree guilt. We still put up a live tree. It's a pain in the tuckus - G. has to haul it in and set it up; I have to clean up needles all the way to next Christmas - but it's worth it.
The fragrance, pungent and fresh, tickles my nose and lives in memories of Christmases past, present, and future. A live tree gladly holds my precious and ancient ornaments among its sturdy branches, and as each year's evergreen is different, so is the glorious result. "It's even better than last year's!" we always say.
This year's tree, purchased from our church - see there, it's already better than the one in the attic - was spectacular in height and funky in form. We soon concluded that funky is us in spades, and this was indeed our tree.
This tall, fresh beauty graced our living room and shone through our windows until past New Year's. Just one more day. Just one more day. But, I finally concluded it was going to look foolish with daffodils pushing up in the yard. We took it down.
This is where the guilt comes in. In previous years, G. would drag the tree, stripped of glory and dignity, down the hill and out into the woods,where it chastised me whenever I looked that way. "Thank you tree, thank you tree," I whispered, but it wasn't enough.
G. swore that the old trees created habitat for critters, but I swear I never saw a rabbit, possum, or raccoon go near one of those trees. It's possible that once or twice a glittering angel may have paused at the top of the skeletal remains, but I never saw that either.
This year, though we are well into 2011, I have no Christmas tree guilt. Here at the beach, live Christmas trees, who have served their families well, go on to greater service after Christmas.
We took our tree to the old Christmas tree drop-off in Emerald Isle, where after a brief farewell ceremony, we left it. The town, takes the trees and finds a glorious final resting place on the beach for each one. A tree spends the rest of its days trapping sand and building dunes - a fitting end for a fine evergreen. Artificial trees, left on the beach, are removed to the trash!
Today, when I walked on the beach, I looked for our tree. I thought I saw a glittering angel wink at me as I passed by a tall, still green tree, but I'm not sure.
The fragrance, pungent and fresh, tickles my nose and lives in memories of Christmases past, present, and future. A live tree gladly holds my precious and ancient ornaments among its sturdy branches, and as each year's evergreen is different, so is the glorious result. "It's even better than last year's!" we always say.
This year's tree, purchased from our church - see there, it's already better than the one in the attic - was spectacular in height and funky in form. We soon concluded that funky is us in spades, and this was indeed our tree.
This tall, fresh beauty graced our living room and shone through our windows until past New Year's. Just one more day. Just one more day. But, I finally concluded it was going to look foolish with daffodils pushing up in the yard. We took it down.
This is where the guilt comes in. In previous years, G. would drag the tree, stripped of glory and dignity, down the hill and out into the woods,where it chastised me whenever I looked that way. "Thank you tree, thank you tree," I whispered, but it wasn't enough.
G. swore that the old trees created habitat for critters, but I swear I never saw a rabbit, possum, or raccoon go near one of those trees. It's possible that once or twice a glittering angel may have paused at the top of the skeletal remains, but I never saw that either.
This year, though we are well into 2011, I have no Christmas tree guilt. Here at the beach, live Christmas trees, who have served their families well, go on to greater service after Christmas.
We took our tree to the old Christmas tree drop-off in Emerald Isle, where after a brief farewell ceremony, we left it. The town, takes the trees and finds a glorious final resting place on the beach for each one. A tree spends the rest of its days trapping sand and building dunes - a fitting end for a fine evergreen. Artificial trees, left on the beach, are removed to the trash!
Today, when I walked on the beach, I looked for our tree. I thought I saw a glittering angel wink at me as I passed by a tall, still green tree, but I'm not sure.
