T is for Tree
…and my dear husband Brett’s name ends in a double-T. He turned 31 on December 9th. I met him 10 years ago, in the latter half of 2005, and we began a relationship on 11.27.06, and were married 13 months and one week later. For our first Christmas, he made me a metal tree, which became our tradition–to save money and for creativity’s sake. This year we decided to christen our new home with the scent of real pine for the first time! The day before Thanksgiving, we went to a nearby tree farm and walked among the different varieties, trying to imagine each one in our living room. At last we spied one that seemed just right on the very edge of the “forest”, next to a field laid to rest for winter. I felt a little sad to cut this living thing down, shake off its loose needles, strap it to the jeep, and prop it up next to my bookshelf as decoration. A tree is so much more than that. I’d rather look at live trees with their roots in the ground, branches in the sky, providing shelter and sustenance, beautiful in their usefulness, taking years to grow rather than drying out in a fleeting month.
But we did chop it down.
Next year, perhaps we can grow our own little windbreak of evergreen. Then I won’t need to cut one down to decorate, for they will adorn our place on the outside, year round, as the wood of their forefathers graces every room inside.