I felt a semi-urgent need to post today, because I just discovered that yesterday’s post was my 666th on this particular platform, and it’s THE CHRISTMAS SEASON! The last thing I need to do is sit around eating Indian nachos and humming The First Noel with a big mark of the beast hanging around on my website. Am I right? (I am.)
We ventured out a few hours back (with our Ventura filter on) and chose our Christmas tree.
I would give you all of the details, but I have a problem with the organization from whom we purchased this year’s Scotch pine. They are slowly making strides in the right direction, but still. (Please know that Mitt Romney and I actually agree on this particular issue, so don’t think I’m just sitting around eating Indian nachos and being a big liberal jerk with a spooky mark of the beast hanging around on my website and The First Noel ringing in my head. I’d like to build the world a home and furnish it with love. Grow apple trees and honey bees and snow white turtle doves.)
This guy sawed the butt off of our tree, and he let Harper keep it. (The butt. Also, the tree.) After counting the rings, we’ve determined that Harper is the same exact age as the tree. With that said, we really don’t know what we’re doing, although Jeff was a Boy Scout. Was. WAS.
The tree is currently hanging out in the corner soaking up some water and letting her branches rest a bit. I’ll be lighting her tomorrow while the kids are at school (My mother taught me to be VERY particular about how to place lights upon (and into) a tree. It’s a job that’s best accomplished with no other humans in the house, as I tend to get pricked and then I tend to swell because I’m allergic to trees and then I tend to say The S Word.).
Speaking of my mother, she made this wreath for us a few years back, and it’s always the first thing we hang when the holiday season rolls around. And to the Earth it gave great light and so it continued both day and night. It’s happening.