‘Tis No Longer the Season

discarded-tree.jpgIs there anything more depressing than de-trimming a Christmas Tree? No one ever wants to do this job. Obviously the boys are nowhere to be seen but even our dog Delilah makes herself scarce. As yuletide traditionalists, we usually keep ours up through Epiphany (January 6th). This year it was unceremoniously stripped and hauled down the driveway on New Year’s Day. Where it remains waiting to be picked up by the town. “O Christmas Tree,” O the indignity. It wasn’t my idea to take it down early — I like to keep it up until Epiphany even if every single needle has fallen off. Partly to make a seasonal point but mostly to procrastinate. But with an upcoming kitchen renovation at the rectory, Bryna is, shall we say, “in the zone.”

So I spent the first day of the New Year wrestling the tree out of the stand, spewing needles all over the place (note to self: haul it out top first next year), and getting covered with sap which I’m still trying to get off my hands (another note to self: use gloves next year). The boxes of ornaments are sitting in front of the attic door; Bryna’s not so subtle hint. Maybe I’ll wait and take them upstairs on Epiphany, just to make a passive aggressive point.   



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