freshly cut Christmas trees smelling of stars and snow and pine resin
- inhale deeply and fill your soul with wintry night
- John Geddes
This is a quiet post. If the images were a work of writing, they would be setting - as opposed to character or plot-line - driven.
We live in a pretty place. Forest, snowy mountains and the Kootenay Sea (when fog settles below the mountain peaks, resembling an ocean.)
My boys took me out to one of their favorite spots where we hiked for hours, inhaling the powder snow and evergreen scent. We were on the hunt for a just-right Christmas tree. I have learned that you have to find one isolated a bit from the dense forest - so that it's branches grow out. One that is not too small nor too tall. And has a nice pyramid shape. Basically, one that we used to pay $70 dollars for in the city.
10 year old Ryder was our leader with the axe. He wouldn't normally hike but any hunt is a good hunt - even just for a tree.
He found a good one, inspected it and started cutting. It looked just right, all right. The tree was full and tall but not too tall. It had a nice shape and totally resembled those designer trees on the city lots. Ryder cut it down and - with gloves on - hauled it to the truck.
It was only when we got it home to decorate did we find out it hurts us! Apparently she's a Blue Spruce with dangerously prickly needles. But we still love her. We just had to wear gloves to decorate our tree.
(Anyone looking for a cat and/or toddler-proof tree? Blue Spruce. You're welcome.)
A quiet afternoon with my handsome boys - drinking hot stuff from thermoses - reinforced that the quiet stuff can be the best stuff.