Saturday, December 03, 2011
trees: then and now
But it was December and really cold out, and, frankly, I just wanted to keep walking. I was worried about my kids home alone and whether this match.com date might actually be a psycho who could easily do away with me and hide me amongst the towering conifers of Tryon Creek. In my head, I was going, "well, he can't be a maniac because he's a scientist." But then, I remembered that the guy who made Frankenstein was a scientist too. A mad scientist.
But my scientist was legit, and I felt so calm and relaxed after our trudge through the chill, that I abandoned my dating rules and invited him in for tea, even though my house was a disaster with kids running hither and yon, and I'd started to put Christmas together in a very half-assed sort of way. Greeting cards were spread out on the table along with the kids' homework and unpaid bills. My oldest son walked out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist and my youngest son was out back skateboarding over rods of rebar. Why Kirk didn't get into his minivan and zoom off, I'll never know.
He examined the tree (which jutted out from the corner of the living room in its sad, delicate state) and my date-who-would-become-husband declared it a hemlock. And when I described its condition and location before cutting it, I was mortified to learn that it really wasn't a "tree" at all--more like a nursing branch off of a tree.
Well, now it's five years later and I still couldn't tell you the difference between a pine and a fir, needle-wise, much less a Noble from a Nordmann, but this morning my scientist and I ventured off to the tree farm in our minivan and picked out a very Un-Charlie Brown tree, had it chain-sawed and baled, and tomorrow we'll trim it up with our joint cadre of ornaments, and I'll marvel at it, and I'll count my blessings that my five-years-ago life is not the life I'm living now.