BERRY TALES: From Christmas tree ritual to geese, it’s a special time

Published 6:00 am Sunday, November 26, 2017

Many years ago, on the Friday after Thanksgiving, we bought our Christmas tree.

I suppose this “event” could be classified as a ritual — it involved my mom, my sister, our small children and myself. We would meet at the old Winn Dixie on St. Peter where Rose’s is now. The new shipment of Douglas Firs would have recently arrived and we were eager to find the perfect tree for $19.99. We helped each other, holding up a potential tree as best we could, deciding if the trunk was straight and determining how much we would lose from the bottom when trimmed with a hacksaw under my dad’s carport; finally deciding on one for each of us. A young man would then tie them to the top of our cars and we happily drove away with our treasures; that is how we did it many Christmases ago.

Today, it is a delightful, however faded, memory I have each time I see a Douglas Fir. I can still feel the prick on my hands, the sap on my coat and smell the scent of fresh cedar as I tousled with the anguish of the decision. 

Those times are gone but those memories are still warm. 

Speaking of warmth, I was recently traveling home from a faraway airport. I began my journey near the Hudson River. On its banks, I saw hundreds and hundreds of Canadian geese. They had stopped to enjoy the sun and vegetation before continuing their journey South. I understand that these geese are masters at adapting to manmade environments and what better backdrop and challenge than NYC!

Their black heads and white “chinstraps” easily distinguished them amongst a scattering of loud quacking ducks there also. It was a welcome and unexpected sight to see, one that made my trip home even more notable.

Miles down the road and hours later, I saw a flock overhead flying in the same southern direction I was driving. I felt a bit connected to this annual event as I drove along the crowded highways of New England. It was as if I were in some storybook while James Taylor lyrics rang through my head, “Dark and silent, late last night, I think I might have heard the highway call and geese in flight.”

I hope to see them again, flying overhead.

I have a small turkey in the oven now, one that will be sliced and perfect for hearty post-Thanksgiving sandwiches. The smell of rosemary fills the kitchen and somehow cleverly and subtly invites the Christmas season into this house once again. It is time to begin forcing my narcissi bulbs in the white ceramic pot near the kitchen sink where the afternoon suns comes through. By Christmas day, they will have grown tall and lanky and in full bloom. I will tie the stalks together with twine and their fragrance will fill me with Christmas memories made in this house of 33 years. In January, I will plant the bulbs outside, joining  the other 32 past plantings and I will look up to the winter sky and wonder if the Christmas geese have made it to their warm winter homes, and I will remember the Christmas star from a night before and wonder if there will be peace on earth.

PAM SHENSKY is a wife, mom to five and blogs at www.pamshensky.com.