The Spirit of the Season

My favorite ornaments placed high upon the tree, well out of the reach of my cats. ;-)

The warm, pleasant days of Monday and Tuesday gave way to a dark, overcast sky this morning. With a weekend forecast of snow and colder temperatures, I decided that it made sense to purchase my Christmas tree while the weather was reasonably good.

Over the years I had purchased trees from a variety of locations from cut your own (not recommended when the snow is up to your waist and you have to drag it a quarter mile to your car), a tree farm where you pick out the tree and some nice guy cuts it down and loads it into your car to the local tree lots with various levels of customer service. I opted for a farm market where I have purchased my trees in the past and is located close to the house.

I was not successful in my search for a blue spruce. It seems that a disease has been damaging the tree and the few on the tree lot were not very large or particularly well shaped. I found a Fraser fir, the tree that I had selected last year; but then discovered a fringed, longer needled tree named the Grand Michigan. The Grand had a pleasantly fragrant citrus aroma, unusual for an evergreen. It was large tree, well over seven feet. I walked back and forth between the two trees, finally deciding upon the Grand. I was sold by its aroma and the unusual needles.

As in years past, the poor tree’s top hung out the back of my car’s hatch. It was a safer alternative to tie down the hatch versus securing the tree to the roof of the car. Although I don’t live far from the market, the last thing I want to have happen is the tree slipping off the roof and having to lift it back on the car by myself.

The tree arrived safely and I pulled it into the house. Isabelle couldn’t restrain herself. As soon as I brought the trussed tree into the room, she sniffed the perimeter. Then, my official tree supervisor, Sundance arrived. Sundance has an affinity for artificial trees so he must have been disappointed to find that this tree could not be dismantled as easily as the fake ones. Gabriel, not to be outdone by the other two, checked out the netting that enveloped the tree. The remaining cats seem unfazed, opting to take their late morning naps.

The whole decorating process took better part of the afternoon. The glass ornaments were now safely secured on the top, the durable, cat-proof ones on the bottom. I poured water into the tree stand, hoping that this year Gabriel will refrain from lapping up the resin-tinged water.

This time of the year always brings back memories of Siegfried, my first cat. He would dig through the boxes of Christmas items, pulling out ornaments and dragging garland around the house. Siegfried embraced Christmas with childlike wonder.

Since Siegfried’s passing years ago, only Sundance has come close to sharing the same love of the holidays. But I cannot complain about the cats for I have to admit, I too, have become rather a Scrooge. There was a time where I trimmed the windows in lights, hung greenery over the railings and played carols ad nauseum from Thanksgiving to New Years. Although I have gotten my Christmas cards mailed out, I have yet to shop for gifts and the time is running out.

Where did the wonderment of Christmas go? In some ways, I attribute it to the lack of snow. Christmas as a child was shopping with my Father, bundled up in heavy winter clothes, slipping and sliding over icy downtown sidewalks. With all the green Christmases of late, it is difficult to recreate those memories I hold so dear. 

But Christmas isn’t about snow, or gifts, or trees or even carols. Christmas is the celebration of faith and family. So I’m going to listen to my albums of Christmas carols, pour myself a glass of eggnog and relax with my family in front of my newly decorated tree and reflect upon the true spirit of the season.