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Here in Seattle, the nice garbage men agree to take your tree away with the trash as long as it isn't too big and it's bound up so they're not fighting with branches all day. Yesterday was my day to accomplish stuff I'd been putting off, so I decided to take the tree down while the kids were at school.
I got the decorations off (not a huge job, as we're still accumulating) and drug the poor dry thing outside. I grabbed a ball of bright blue-green yarn from my knitting bag and decided to use that to bind up the branches -- no small job, given that the tree was something like just shy of 6 ft and rather dry, sad to say. It didn't fight me too much... I've gotten stronger since I last attempted something of the kind, though the yarn did keep getting tangled rather apologetically in the lower branches as I was winding up the top ones.
The longer I spend writing and editing, the more I feel that the ability to find metaphor in the oddest things is crucial to making a go of it in that field. For me, as I was winding the yarn around and around, it made me think of Narnia and Aslan, and how he was being bound at the Stone Table. Granted, I really wasn't much of a white witch, nor an orc, but as the bushy branches scratched at my hands and arms, I couldn't help but draw comparisons. The poor tree was sacrificed for our holiday pleasure, bringing a bit of light to a dark time of year. At the end, I took away its glory and bound its limbs, and now it lies in my yard, destined for the scrap heap, hopefully one day to be born again from a dropped seed or recycled into something new. I could have gotten gloves or put on long sleeves, but it seemed disrespectful somehow to deny its final rough glory, so I stayed the course. I used the time to think of all the things in 2005 that I no longer wanted, the loose ends I had tied up (or am tying up now), the freedom to move beyond the old ways and the boundaries I'd kept for so long. I couldn't help wishing that I had a fireplace, as it would seem so much more appropriate to be able to burn the wood, feel the heat and the gorgeous flames and know that this was a fitting and respectful end, but I have no fireplace, and so must rely on the kindness of Seattle's recycling policies to do it for me. I did my best to honor the sacrifice that marked the end of the old and the beginning of the New Year, and I hope that it grows to bring as much joy as the previous year. I also hope Aslan doesn't come back and bite my head off.
Also, in rearranging my living room following the expulsion of the tree, I'd had to wash the slipcover to my couch. My ex bought my son a bottle of red gatorade, which in the way of six-year-olds ended up partially open on my white couch, leaving a nice red mark. Luckily, the bleach seems to have gotten rid of it all. But anyway, so I dressed my naked couch again today... which is no easy feat, I tell you. It's like trying to fit a boulder into a princess-seamed party dress. It is done, however, and my house is halfway back to being itself again. This makes me happy.
I got the decorations off (not a huge job, as we're still accumulating) and drug the poor dry thing outside. I grabbed a ball of bright blue-green yarn from my knitting bag and decided to use that to bind up the branches -- no small job, given that the tree was something like just shy of 6 ft and rather dry, sad to say. It didn't fight me too much... I've gotten stronger since I last attempted something of the kind, though the yarn did keep getting tangled rather apologetically in the lower branches as I was winding up the top ones.
The longer I spend writing and editing, the more I feel that the ability to find metaphor in the oddest things is crucial to making a go of it in that field. For me, as I was winding the yarn around and around, it made me think of Narnia and Aslan, and how he was being bound at the Stone Table. Granted, I really wasn't much of a white witch, nor an orc, but as the bushy branches scratched at my hands and arms, I couldn't help but draw comparisons. The poor tree was sacrificed for our holiday pleasure, bringing a bit of light to a dark time of year. At the end, I took away its glory and bound its limbs, and now it lies in my yard, destined for the scrap heap, hopefully one day to be born again from a dropped seed or recycled into something new. I could have gotten gloves or put on long sleeves, but it seemed disrespectful somehow to deny its final rough glory, so I stayed the course. I used the time to think of all the things in 2005 that I no longer wanted, the loose ends I had tied up (or am tying up now), the freedom to move beyond the old ways and the boundaries I'd kept for so long. I couldn't help wishing that I had a fireplace, as it would seem so much more appropriate to be able to burn the wood, feel the heat and the gorgeous flames and know that this was a fitting and respectful end, but I have no fireplace, and so must rely on the kindness of Seattle's recycling policies to do it for me. I did my best to honor the sacrifice that marked the end of the old and the beginning of the New Year, and I hope that it grows to bring as much joy as the previous year. I also hope Aslan doesn't come back and bite my head off.
Also, in rearranging my living room following the expulsion of the tree, I'd had to wash the slipcover to my couch. My ex bought my son a bottle of red gatorade, which in the way of six-year-olds ended up partially open on my white couch, leaving a nice red mark. Luckily, the bleach seems to have gotten rid of it all. But anyway, so I dressed my naked couch again today... which is no easy feat, I tell you. It's like trying to fit a boulder into a princess-seamed party dress. It is done, however, and my house is halfway back to being itself again. This makes me happy.
