You know what’s crazy? I’ll tell you what’s crazy.™
That new tree smell. It’s like hanging that Christmas Tree deodorizer on your rear view mirror and driving with the top down.
Only way more intense, way more festive.
I was flip flopping about getting a tree. It’s only November 26th. Do I really want a tree? Do I really want to get a tree this early? Do I want a Douglas Fir? A Frazier Fir? A Spruce Goose? I don’t even know what that means. I was going to delay till all the trees were gone and all that’s left was a pine cone and some dried up needles.
Can’t hang that, I’d say to myself and start thinking about how not to celebrate the New Years.
Ah, not so fast my friend.
A friend calls me and says.
“I got my artificial tree to work. I don’t want this 10 foot Douglas Fir I just bought. You want it?”
Do I want it?
Does a bald Eagle love the American Flag?
Does a bank robber love a Nixon mask?
Does a quarterback like to place his hands between a large sweaty man’s butt cheeks?
Hell yes.
So I jam over and throw the monster tree on the top of my SUV.
I don’t have twine, so I tie it down with thin electrical wire I happen upon.
I thought the wire would be stronger than twine, but in actuality, it is brittle like old movie theater Twizzler candy. As soon as I pull it taught, it snaps, easily.
Oh oh. I’m nervous, wondering if my tree is going to roll off my SUV and impail someone in the skull
I tie it to the luggage rack, tightly, like I’m going to demand a ransom later on.
I decide the highway might blow it off so I take the surface streets.
Suddenly it begins to pour.
Water splashing over my windshield. Puddles and rain and liquid sheets of hell blowing all about me.
The tree is absorbing water like a sponge.
That’ll be fun to pry off the roof, I think to myself.
I get home and pull the tree down. A 10 foot Douglas Fir is a lot bigger than you might think.
It showers me with water like spit coming out of a St Bernard’s mouth after drinking molasses.
I drag the tree through the door. I hear the branches scrape the wood. I see needles shower the wood floor.
More to clean later, I chuckle.
I throw the tree in the new base I just bought, and I lock it down.
I cut the plastic webbing and the branches unfurl. You can see them almost smiling as they are set free. It’s as if this is South Africa and I am Nelson Mandela, needle emancipator!
Suddenly the house is filled with that new tree smell.
Out with the old turkey stink and in with the smell of the season.
It’s Wintergreen lovely. It’s mountain fresh beautiful. My little stagnating house is suddenly a log cabin in the Tennessee Mountains.
It’s amazing what a Christmas Tree can do. Not only does it brighten the room, it makes every room smell like the season of giving.
Soon my 10 foot tree will have lights and twinkle like the night sky. Soon it will have garland that hugs its branches like a romantic couple on Dancing with the stars. Soon it will have a star that commands attention and makes one think of the wondrous time of the year.
All from a tree, all because a friend was kind enough to give me a tree that was going to be thrown into the woods in a space that only skunks and varmints would appreciate.
Breathe in. Can you smell it? The spirit of giving.
One tree. One season. A special feeling.
And that is crazy.™