For Margot. I wrote this for you a long time ago. The Christmas Tree In the long distances that connect northern communities is some of the most stunning scenery in the world. In fact, it feels as though your brain should stretch, just to secure the memory of it. But. It’s also overwhelming in its vastness and the unending green & earth tones of it. And in the untenanted sky that wraps from horizon to horizon. And your eye sometimes longs for a spark of different colour, a reminder of civilization other than the grey road beneath your wheels and the fast-moving vehicle whose wind you buffet against for the brief moment it passes ... And someone, some other craving soul, has provided that. About half-way to nowhere, there is a perfect little pine tree, the shape of every Christmas cut from the forest & dragged back to fill your home with its crisp scent. It is different from the millions of others along the highway only in that it stands alone on a mowed verge and draws your attention by its solitariness. Someone stopped there once, climbed the steep bank and waded through the deep snowdrifts to decorate it. With large, bright red & yellow glass balls that catch the sun and reflect the snow and twinkle as you near. Some other laughing soul has created a reminder that “yes, you’re nearly there” (wherever you’re going this time). I’m always grateful when I see it, a bit of brightness and foolishness to warm the heart, and I’m sure it brings a slow smile of recognition to all others who pass, too ...
Posted on: Fri, 04 Oct 2013 09:01:07 +0000
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