We’re some distance away from the commercial Scots pine plantations (they’re too well guarded for what we have in mind), in an area of ancient woodland. Bump, bumpity, bump goes our pick-up along a narrow, snowy track. “Keep your eyes… Continue Reading
I “We get in, get the tree, get out,” says Dad. “Got it?”Football begins in less than two hours; my family is on the clock. II Marc points out that Christmas trees do not grow in Bethlehem. It would be… Continue Reading
One Wednesday morning in the middle of March, Isaac Thomas arrived at his father’s house to find the elderly poet recumbent on the attic staircase, holding onto a Christmas tree. The tree, which Isaac recognized from his childhood, lay on… Continue Reading
My patrol had taken longer than I had anticipated, and I returned at dusk, the cold December air clinging to me as I snuck back into the house. After weeks of spying, I finally had the intel from the last… Continue Reading
Bob hated Christmas. It brought to mind memories of when his parents fought, usually after a long night of spiked eggnog. While his parents’ quarreling was far in the past, Bob still found the forced merriment of holidays unbearable. If… Continue Reading
I was born and raised in the forest, among my kind. We lived off the land, the nearby waterways, unmolested and unencumbered, free to enjoy the sun, the stars, and especially the occasional breeze. Now my ankle hurts. I only… Continue Reading
I hate driving in snow, Margret thinks as she dumps a bag of ornaments onto the passenger seat of her car. She doesn’t even know why she does this. David’s been gone six years now, and their spoiled brat children… Continue Reading
Day 1 I am ancient yet not immortal, and I wonder if this is how my death begins. I have lived in these mountains for seasons beyond measure. I have bonded myself with dozens of trees and mourned their mortality… Continue Reading
The scraggly Douglas fir bristles with anticipation as a man and woman finally stop before it in the Christmas tree lot. “Really, Rob?” The woman sighs a puff of steam, glances around at thicker, taller pine, spruce, and cedar trees.… Continue Reading
The little Angel sat on a sturdy branch half way up the biggest tree in the little wood — despondent. The persistent rain drizzled down the back of her best white gown. She hated rain — it made her wings… Continue Reading