THE CHRISTMAS TREE

I remember the day that we went out to cut down our Christmas tree in the Colorado Mountains. It was sputtering that flighty, cold, chilling and nasty, sizzle-sozzle snow that is so cold it pricks your skin like a thousand needles and makes your nose run like a broken faucet. The old Blazer complained as the key turned to start, as it let out banging sounds of pain, sounding like a black-smith tempering a horse shoe. It wound up tight whilst making feeble attempts to suck up the frozen oil into her heart. Vroommmmmm… 

We arrived at the scene after four-wheeling through deep snow, then trudging through the trees to find that imperfect tree, as most wild ones are … a redeeming quality if I may say so. Little Henry and I finally found it, even though the girls were back in the Blazer nudging the heater vents with both feet, which were nearly frostbit. We did make fun of them as we loaded the tree on the blazer, although I am sure that all concerned would have gladly paid cash on the barrelhead for a pre-cut tree at this point. 

Today, that would not be as such, as the memory of the event is such a pleasant one. Good memories always come from hard work or a little misery, and living in the moment. I hope that all of you do just that on this glorious day. 

Go out, be miserable, and have a great day! The moment is now, and now will never come again… 

MERRY CHRISTMAS

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Keep your head down,

Henry Hill, Plum Pennsylvania