It's Not the Wine Speaking It's the Tree

This morning I woke to the weatherman saying words like “snow” and “dropping temperatures”. It is words like that, which cause me to have to rethink the wardrobe choices for my feet. I went from comfy flip-flops, to “real” shoes that were open toed. Then I progressed to the next level of “real” shoes that were closed toed. Then was today, today I searched the socks basket for black trouser socks so I could survive thirty minutes of recess duty. Closed toed shoes, trouser socks, and all this workingwoman fashion requirement stuff made for this relaxing evening.

I sit here this evening my feet warm in their black socks, eating a grilled chicken salad with blue cheese dressing while sipping a couple of glasses of moscato wine (left from Thanksgiving and who wants to see good wine go to waste?) and starring at the Christmas tree in the great room.

My tree, our tree all-aglow frosted in its 1500 white sparkling lights speak to me. I stare at it and it tells me stories, stories of friends, family and times of growing, and traveling. This year I placed smack in the front middle of the tree a new s’more ornament that my friend Georganne gave me and Sylvia when we met for the world’s longest, and best, breakfast date—a memento of our days as camp counselors in the Covered Wagons unit. When I look at that ornament it warms my heart that I have friends I enjoy being with. I see an ornament from Mount Rushmore and my mind starts to travel back to the month long camping trip we took across the west and the miles we tracked hiking in the mountains and the laughs we shared as a family. I spot the hand blown glass Biltmore Mansion ornament, remembering the beauty and grandeur of the home. Then there is the St.Louis Cathedral ornament I bought this summer when I took a group of teens to New Orleans for the youth gathering--great time that was! I see the U.S Capitol ornament I bought the year we met up with my Air Force pilot nephew in Washington DC. I see the Disney World and Disneyland mementos hanging from the lighted branches. I see ornaments showing hometown support of sport teams. I see ornaments that King Ralph’s aunt’s loving hands needlepointed into small lace trimmed soft pillows that read “First Christmas’ and the birth dates of the girls. I see ornaments that my aunt and uncle sent from Chicago. I see a blue glittery snowflake made of interlink craft sticks, a craft ornament M made with her friends at her ninth birthday “craft and crash” birthday slumber party. I see hand crafted memorial ornaments honoring the passing of King Ralph’s maternal great-grandmother and grandmother. I see a snowman wearing his Michigan jersey reminding my sister and her family now live miles from here. At the top of the tree is an angel made of cream-colored cornhusk that I crafted and has survived many of basement floods. Oh the stories they each tell.

Each ornament has meaning and memory. Each tells its own story. What is your tree telling you?