Tuesday, November 30, 2010

A Tree From Tastee Freeze

Oh, tannenbaum, oh tannenbaum.....

Another Christmas on the farm. I'm not sure where our tree originated. I only remember driving to the edge of Greenville to the Tastee Freeze (I think that's right) next to what I believe was then a hardware store. We walked around the little ice cream store with Dad holding up a tree for approval. It's odd that this is the only time I remember going to get a tree. I don't know where Dad got the tree all of those other years, but we always had one.

We have been in Oregon since 1978. To our surprise most families made 'tree cutting' an event. Trekking to a tree farm in the forest, children ran from tree to tree looking for nature's best. We non-natives had to learn to 'track the best tree'. I'm sure that when trees were plentiful on the flat fields of Neff Road, fathers with axe in hand walked out the door to find a fresh tree. The only two fir trees that I knew of that were Christmas tree worthy were at the end of my Uncle Keith's lane.

The big cardboard box was once more brought into the living room. The same ornaments from Christmas's past would be unwrapped: the angle with spun glass hair, the cast figures who skated on a mirror surrounded by fake snow, small, burgundy plastic bells, metal ice icicles in a variety of color twisting reflecting the lights, bubble lights that fascinated a small girl, gold glass balls that mother loved and blue glass balls with snowflakes on them. Memories with each precious ornament.

I remember hanging tinsel icicles one by one over the limbs of the tree. Some families just threw them onto the tree. Not at our house. Each one was draped neatly over the limbs picking up the lights causing the tree to twinkle. It was Christmas on the Loxley farm. The tree from wherever Dad found it brought joy to the house back the lane.

We cut our tree again this year. We pulled out the plastic bins filled with memories from Christmases past. My ornaments weren't used this year. I decided that my granddaughters needed to see their ornaments with memories tied to them on our tree. A small burgundy bell is resting in my Christmas box in the garage. A memory from the past from a tree back the lane on Neff Road.

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