Trimming the Tree

Where Did We Think It Was Going to Fit?

Todd and Mini Tree

Grendel Guarding Ornaments

Unpacking Memories

Trimmed Tree

Literally. Trimming the tree. Because we drove into the Kaniksu National Forest with eyes bigger than our ceiling. I know that my daughters are petite, but my first clue should have been when I snapped their photo with our freshly axed grand fir. It towers over them at 12 feet tall.

Thus the first task of trimming our tree was to cut it down to eight and a half feet tall. It slides perfectly beneath our ceiling, and we got a bonus "mini tree." Neither the star nor the angel can cram into the microscopic space between treetop and ceiling, but it fits.

Grendel guards the ornaments as I carefully unpack years of memories--the crystal ballerina, the striped cat, the elementary school treasures, the nutcracker, the dog angels, the various Santas, the cradled baby Jesus shaped like a pickle.

The kid-made ornaments are my favorite, though I cannot say they are stunning. There's a one-eyed reindeer made of Popsicle sticks and several school pictures framed with faded construction paper or painted puzzle pieces. Somehow, over the course of 25 Christmases, the salt-dough heart ornament with my name and Todd's has survived. He says it's because I used my biscuit dough to make it.

It's been so long since a fir has graced my home as the Christmas tree. In the Midwest an eight and a half foot Fraser fir would have cost at least $150. Our tree permit cost us $5. The reason I love a fir is for the way my ornaments drip off each branch in elegance, especially my plastic, glittered ice-cycles.

And it smells like Christmas; the old mingling with the new. The lights twinkle among glass bulbs as a slight essence of fir fills the air.

The tree is now trimmed.