Cutting down the tree....
Spruce trees have a habit of growing, then rapidly outgrowing, their designated spots. This was certainly the case with a spruce my parents had planted shortly after moving into our new house, when I was but a toddler. Several years later, they reluctantly decided the tree had to come down. To soften the blow, they planned to take the top section off first and use it as a Christmas tree. Clever, right?
In theory....
So there we were - my Dad, sister and I - on what turned out to be a most challenging day of weather in mid December. Sheets of rain quickly turned to ice, then snow. Our fingers, numb with cold, didn't cooperate as easily as one would like. The entire process seemed to move along at a snail's pace.
Climbing the ladder my sister and I had dragged from the garage, Dad found himself deep inside the branches of the massive tree. Using a hand saw, he cut through the trunk as best he could. When he felt he had made enough progress to allow the top to come down, he threaded a large piece of rope above the cut, securing it with several knots.
Meanwhile, the two teenagers under his command for this mission, were vacillating between impatience (we were freezing!) and fits of giggles. Adding a degree of excitement to the afternoon, sirens began to wail, heralding the arrival of Santa Claus atop the local volunteer Fire Truck!
Amid much cheering, my sister and I quickly abandoned my Dad's side and ran off to the truck to get candy canes.
The patience my Dad had with us that day was phenomenal!
When we returned to the job at hand, he then explained "the plan" about to take place. Our instructions were quite straight forward - with the end of the rope gathered in both our hands, we were to wait for his signal before doing anything more. Climbing back up the ladder, Dad then shouted down, "Now when I say when, I want you both to pull as hard as you can on the rope."
Right. Got it.
Umm, not quite.
I'm still not clear if it was a premature tug on our part or just a flawed plan in general, but before we knew it, there was Dad, his head and shoulders barely sticking out from between the branches of the now toppled tree top.
We looked up in horror as he calmly said, "When."
Thankfully, he wasn't hurt. Though things hadn't exactly gone to plan, he was pleased that he had managed to cut the tree top off and get it down on the ground.
See how proudly he and his feeble assistant are smiling?
(My sister played photographer to capture the moment that day.)
And this is how the tree looked, resplendently dressed in tinsel, lights and ornaments, in the living room.
It was actually more massive than the photo leads you to believe, filling a large portion of the room. It was far from the usual table top tree my parents had preferred in recent years. Despite its odd shape and overbearing size, it felt extra special to us - having worked together to bring it in from our own property.
As I further recall, that particular Christmas Eve my sister and I sat on the couch and watched White Christmas on television for the first time after my parents had gone to bed.
Funny the things you can remember....
