Well, we’re making the last turn before we head down the homestretch toward Christmas. Of course, I forget now what store it was, but this year one of the stores I was in had a bit of Christmas stuff out the last of September. You think that might be pushing it a little? Yeah, me too.
Saturday, Deb and I went shopping for a Christmas tree. We found this place that had lots of pretty firs and not a single person out there with a chain saw or to help you load the tree in your car. Food Lion! $29.95 for an authentic Christmas icon. We’ve bought trees there the last three or four seasons. OK, one year our tree looked like it had come loose and been drug down the highway from Boone for several miles, but we just turned that portion toward the wall. And where else can you buy a Christmas tree and toilet paper in the same place? Right—Food Lion. I mean, you go on a regular Christmas tree lot and start asking for toilet paper and people start getting nervous.
It’s Christmas that I think of Mom and her Russian Tea. That Yuletide brew was tolerable the first twelve hours, then the dang cloves in the stuff got stronger and stronger till it would numb your tongue. Mom used to serve it to everybody who dropped in during the holidays. After they’d had a cup, you couldn’t understand a thing they said. It had about four different kinds of fruit juices in it and a fifty pound bag of sugar. Dad always said it reminded him of something that needed to be poured back in the horse!
It’s Tuesday and while we’ve put in twelve quarts of water since Saturday, we haven’t gotten any closer to decorating our tree. But that’s OK, just having the tree standing in the living room, blocking half the TV, kind of warms the heart. And the aroma—-nothing reminds me of Christmas like a tree that smells like Food Lion.