Stick Tree

Well, here is my stick tree. I told you I was keeping it simple.

 

Around Thanksgiving, on our trip to pick up J,  I saw a lot of UT license plate cars with trees strapped to the tops. It was obvious they had made a jaunt into the woods, cut down a tree and hauled it back home to Utah.

Don't they have trees in Utah? Maybe Idaho trees are better.... 

 

 

 

 

All I had to do, in order to get my "tree" was walk into the back yard and rummage through the debris left over from cutting down the tree branches last month.  I stuck it in my 1776 milk bottle, hung the doily ornaments and surrounded the base with pine cones.

Gifts from Christmas past are also there- so it is nice to look at from the bed.That doll is creaping me out now that I look at her in these pictures. Although I loved playing with her as a kid, she may have to go.

 

There are no lights to string around the branches, pine needles to pick up, and it doesn't require water!
If any of you feel like a stick tree, you are welcome to our backyard!

 

This stick tree will bring a sweet memory as to the work I had J. do after little brother cut the tree branches down, sawed off smaller logs, and left the rest for us to disassemble.

 

 

In order to make it "fun" all I had to do was join him in the project and include the wheel barrel.

 

After the second or third trip of loading the heavier logs into it, pushing it throught soft, plowed soil, up over the cement lipped boarder and then stacking them by the house- he was pooped.

 

The project eventually turned to the smaller boughs and using different tools, such as sharp tree clippers. That was fun for a bit too. we would pick up boughs like my tree above, then clip them into smaller pieces to use as, well, kindkling for starting our house on fire. (See last year's post on when I built the fire and forgot to open the flew in time.) Despite a good pair of yellow deer skin gloves on his hands, Jaden's hands got pretty sore and despite being in somewhat good shape from bball, he was huffing it. So...

 

I threw in Hans story about the Little Match Girl to make the "suffering" of working hard put in perspective. He's read the story before but I lost the book when I took it to one of my sub teaching jobs. It was illustrated by a former ballerina and is my favorite. Remind me to buy it off ebay when I can.

 

Yup, little orphan boys would sell things on the street corners too. Some had to go out into the wolf filled woods, gather twigs the size you are holding and then sell them for a penny.

 

 

This wolf talk and poor wages earned made his eyes widen. I reassured him Padre wouldn't be such a stiff, yet we pretended to be poor, which in all reality wasn't too hard to do for me, but as far as he knows he isn't going to have to be gathering kindling to sell,at least for a few years, to help pass the time.

 

 

 

 

(I love the memories that come from these vintage items)






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Tonight at Pillow talk:

J: So when did you stop believing in Santa Claus?

Me:????? Uh-oh. Here it is. The Christmas Talk. Harder to do than the Birds and The Bees Talk.
Did I give off that aura or something? Darn! I thought I had one more year!

What do you mean? You are asking me a trick question, aren't you?

J: I know you don't believe in him.

Me: Yes, I do. I believe in the spirit of Christmas. It's like faith.

I explain faith. Like faith in God and His Son. Then continue with my Santa is Real Shpill.

 It's hard to find it each year. But it exists. And when you feel it, you know it. And you know he exists.

J: So and so said it's just his parents writing in swirly writing on the tags. But so and so friend believes. So when did you stop believing in him?

Oh, no! More talking about this Santa stuff???? AAAHHHHH!!!!!

Me: Ummm..... well, it was 5th or 6th grade- when a friend of mine told me he wasn't real. --But I still believed in him and told her so.

 

J: I still believe in him. I mean- I SAW him. He was at our house, walking out the front door and then he just disappeared.

(heavens open and angels sing at this response because it gets me out of the hot seat and it is TRUE.)

I about started to cry.

This event really did happen one year. Orchestrated, of course. But it happened. It was before he had to leave to his Dad's- we left the house for a little drive and upon returning we saw through our front wiindow:  "Santa" all dressed up. The lights were off except for the tree and a small lamp and there he was.

He exited our front door, we kept driving because we knew the  cardinal rule of seeing Santa!! And quite literally, he disappeared in thin air.  That was not orchestrated. To this day I don't know how Santa Claus did it. I need to ask him when I get the chance.

But hearing J say that made me almost cry.   That was back when Mrs. Claus didn't have cancer, when she cared for Santa and he began his growing his beard in August.

Then all the memories of last year flooded me. The glow from next door- the "north pole" equivalent.
Our whole avenue had a reverence to it and this year it is a seemingly plain and  'bare as the stick tree'
street.

 Or is that my heart? And my hope?

I looked at J's post from the other day and felt a sadness at his seeing Santa a second time, drive away in his Pontiac sleigh. Where is that Santa? I am sad that J. had a chuckle about it. But it is the raw truth and I wanted to keep his words, perceptions. Those are important in writing and capturing real life- and he wouldn't blog if I touched his work. So I accepted the conditions but didn't realize it could be hurtful.

Maybe I should have given him a good talking to about where Santa was coming from and his needs too? I dunno. Or did J. think he was one of those Santa helpers that come from the mall like in the movies he watches?

I wish life were as simple as getting a stick tree set up,

And yup, baby doll has to go before this turn into The Nightmare Before Christmas.