I wasn’t really feeling Christmas this year due to my dad’s death. But I found some workarounds.
A couple of weeks beforehand I tried to jump-start old memories by visiting the city’s largest nursery and walking among the Christmas trees that were all lined up and waiting for new homes.
That evergreen smell usually does it for me, and I did start feeling a bit Kris Kringle-y. This time, however, the fragrance of the season was at war with the fact that for decades my dad raised Christmas trees as a side hustle.
That made me feel a bit weepy, but I fought to counter this with good memories of those trees: helping plant them for a couple of years as a teenager, and doing tree-related chores with him during visits as an adult.
That helped, which is something I should remember when I feel like raging against the COVID that took him away. One of the platitudes people like to bring up when you’re grieving is, “Think of all the good times you had together!” Turns out that this is true and in fact entirely rational, but it doesn’t always help when you’re in the thick of dammit-this-isn’t-FAIR.
This time, it did, and I am grateful.
Bonus: My teen-aged great-niece* accompanied me. We enjoyed looking at the trees, inhaling the fragrance, and clutching imaginary pearls when we looked at price tags. Live trees** are a mania with some Alaskans and they’re willing to pay big bucks for evergreens that have been transported up from the Lower 48.
We also got a great kick out of the nursery’s gift shop, rife as it was with displays of fancy textiles, soaps, lotions, glassware, chocolates and Department 56 holiday village collectibles. The trip was a balm for our gray-winter-day eyes. That close to solstice, we would take any color we could get.
We also noticed that Department 56 now makes Halloween village collectibles, including a subset of Harry Potter stuff. I suppose it was only a matter of time.
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