On a short walk this morning with both my dogs (Murphy, my little elderly gentleman usually is not up to walks but maybe the colder weather helped), I saw more of those beautiful frasier, balsam, douglas and noble firs heaped at the side of the road. It’s like a death, really.
Imagine. Thanksgiving feasting. Advent begins, More and more cars on the road with trees tied to the roof, happy celebrants taking their choice selections home to adorn them in regal splendor!
The days, maybe weeks of anticipation for those days when our homes are transformed into sparkling, shining, aromatic and glimmering havens of beauty. Where all of us, families and single people alike are filled with thoughts of parties, friendships, warmth, and sugar plums. We practically float through our days, gliding joyfully with carolling and laughter to that wonderfully awaited day where we awaken with our loved ones and open gifts, some surprising, others hoped for, all is bright and cheery. We savor each moment of this day, appreciating what we have and those with whom we can share. We listen more closely, speak more gently and kindly. This day has a loveliness, a beauty all its own and something we really ought to be aware of with the gift of each day.
And the day after this wonderful day of jewelled moments the trees lose their luster. The gleaming ornaments, tinsel, icicles, strings of shiny beads, shimmering stars all carefully put away. And the tree,
That tree we so looked forward to finding as we strolled through aromatic evergreen, wintry lots, gazing upon rows and rows of needle-branched trees.
Now lies cast aside ignominiously by the side of the road.
Without a second thought.