Most of this wreath has dried and It's still pleasing to me. A lot of greens don't dry very gracefully even though they're evergreen. The white camellias are just added. They are notoriously fragile. They last a few days if you're lucky, before getting brown freckles all over the blossoms. I've found that if you take off all the leaves, these pure white petals last just a bit little longer.
So we did end up with a little tree for a little dinner gathering after all. The weekend before Christmas we both felt good enough to take a ride to find a tree to cut down. Did you know that you can cut Christmas trees in certain National Forests if you get a permit? We found a Douglas fir stand that could benefit from being thinned out. All the baby trees under the parent tree won't survive to adulthood since they are crowded together seeking light and space. We altered the survival question for the ones left behind to figure out.
Why all this consideration? Jon is bothered by cutting down trees. We didn't have trees for many a year. When all our parents were alive and awaited our transcontinental holiday visits, we never had to think about it. After they moved on, I had such a gut wrenching desire for a tree. It was a huge part of our holiday celebration growing up. It is wasteful in the sense that the tree grows for years and is sacrificed and discarded in a few weeks. But the scent, the evergreen presence, the lights and ornaments inherited and given to us by family and friends is such a big pull for me. And somehow an appropriate sacrifice in this season of endings and beginnings.
What to do, what to do? I know, you're thinking of a potted tree and I'm telling you that I'm a tree snob. The small potted varieties just don't do it. So we tried going to tree lots on Christmas Eve looking for trees that nobody wanted. We substituted a blown down birch branch for many years until it's limbs started cracking away. We have cut them down at tree farms where they are grown for crops trying out the notion that if we did it ourselves, it would feel differently, but still Jon winced.
Nothing is simple, is it when you try to live a conscious life with conscious choices? So this is our latest exploration of finding a tree for me and a comfort level for Jon. When he stood examining the stand of trees and saw how some of the young trees were already beginning to die back, it made it easier for him, it made sense. For him and me. I think I'm just more used to the idea of embracing plant death since I work with flowers that are on their way to dying. When I'm working in the garden, there's always choices to be made as to who lives and who dies. Sometimes I feel like one big tyrant- at best a temporary steward who is really trying to be thoughtful when the ax comes down.
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