Ice and Trees

     Hoo-ee, is it slippery outside.  I have cleaty things on my boots, but the dog has none on his paws.  He had a hard time keeping his feet organized under him today.  He even fell right down with his legs splayed out to the sides.  That had to hurt.  We knew an ice storm was coming.  How bad it will get remains to be seen.

     The area Up North where my sister lives is still cleaning up from an ice storm that blew in last winter. One of the problems with ice storms is that ice is heavy.  When enough ice coats trees, they break.  The sound of trees breaking is awful.  We’re hoping the ice doesn’t get that thick.

     Speaking of which, I was surprised to see a mom and preschooler out on the pond this Tuesday.  Neither one of them looked to weigh much more than air, but they were making the season’s first skate tracks on the ice.  While December’s been unusually cold, the temperature recently has been climbing to the high side of freezing.  Wednesday, it reached the high forties.  But this was Tuesday, and mother and child were enjoying time together.  The little guy spent the most of his time crawling, trying to get back up from his latest spill, but he did not seem unhappy about it.  He was learning to skate, and it’s a process.

     I already know how to decorate Christmas trees, and it’s a process, too.  The family room tree was still unadorned and unlit when my sweetheart walked in.  He chooses to involve himself in tree decorating by offering words of encouragement and/or admiration as appropriate.  As the bare tree offered little to encourage or admire, he refrained from comment and went so far as to avoid eye contact. 

     This didn’t save him.  Nope.  It was time to put the lights on, and I was unpacking them from their storage box.  It’s a big box.  I like a well-lit Christmas tree.

     “I do not feel one bit like putting lights on this tree!” I announced.

     Ever kind, he responded, “Then don’t.”

     “I have to,” 

     “Why?”

     “Because, if I don’t, the tree will have no lights.”  Honestly, the things some brilliant people need explained.

     Having dragged the step ladder in from the garage, I climbed up and started at the top, passing the string of lights back and forth to my sweetheart, so the ladder didn’t need moving over and over.  My honey can reach the top without a ladder.  He benevolently continued helping until it only took three ladder moves per string, and then shimmered out of the room.

     When next he ventured by, I was working on lower strings, the ones where you’d like to put the tree on a ladder to avoid having to spend so much time bent over.  I finished up and sat down on an ottoman to rest.  It wasn’t enough.  I plopped further, so that the blanket on the ottoman supported my lower back and the sofa supported the rest of it.  Ahh.  Lovely stretch.

     I inquired as to why carefully packed and stored strings of lights should die between uses.  He misunderstood and, scientist that he is, began to explain the reasons–materials, moisture, jostling, and so forth.  When he’d covered the subject pretty well, he glanced over to see my complete and utter dissatisfaction with this answer. 

     Recovering quickly, he said, “You’re right—it shouldn’t happen.”

     “Thank you,” I said, and we both laughed.

     By now, Rascal had strolled in to see what the pack was doing.  Taking one look at me sprawled over sofa and ottoman, he approached the sofa at speed.

     “You’d better not be coming up here to lick my face,” I warned him.

     Thus, he went with Plan B, jumping on the sofa and parking his posterior on my arm.  Such an affectionate fellow

     On to the silver bells.  When my sisters and I married, our lovely aunt began giving us a bell every year of our marriages.  We’ve enjoyed the tradition enough that, since our aunt died a few years ago, we’ve been getting the bells for ourselves.  They make quite a collection now and, at our house, the bells go on the family room tree.

     Even if they were there were no other adornments, the bells would be sufficient for the tree to seem decorated.  They represent love, our aunt’s and each other’s.  They remind us of what’s important, at Christmas and through the year.  I hang most of them deep withing the lighted branches, where they seem to glow.  And yes, the lovelight gleams.

     Merry Christmas.

26 December 2025