Our Christmas Trees

Christmas tree 2011

Many family Christmas memories revolve around the Christmas tree. These stories rarely have to do with the magnificence of the tree. In fact, Charlie Brown’s Christmas tree may be our culture’s most famous Christmas tree, standing for the true meaning of the season.

We have many family stories about our Christmas trees beginning with our first Christmas in Greenfield in 1971.  I was a single mother of five children when I came to town. Our life had changed and so had many of the family routines and rituals.

As a gift, a new friend invited me and the children out to the Heath wilderness (as yet totally unknown to us) for a picturesque outing to cut down our own tree. There had been snow and frigid weather, but that afternoon was relatively warm and sunny, a perfect day for a holiday outing.  The boys had disappeared, but the three girls aged 7, 9, and 10, and I set off with our friend caroling and laughing.

We got to Heath and started trekking through the woods. Unfortunately, though our friend was kind, he didn’t know much about Christmas trees, or even about the woodlot he drove us to. We found nothing resembling our fantasy Christmas tree. Even worse, the sun had softened the snow crust and the going was hard.  Kathy, at 7, was floundering and falling in the deep snow. Everyone was getting colder and wetter as the sun hid itself.  I decided that the next tree we saw would be the perfect tree. No arguments allowed. We cut it down, dragged it out to the road, and lashed it to the car. The car heater conked out and we were exhausted. There were no carols or happy chatter on the way home.

Happily, Henry, the man I had recently met and  would eventually marry, met us at the door. While I got the girls into hot baths and their warm nighties, Henry set up the tree. The trunk was crooked and it took lots of  guy wiring to hold it stable. The sparse branches started to drop their needles almost immediately and my two sons just hooted in derision when they finally made their appearance.

I said the tree gave us lots of scope for ornaments. Unfortunately, somehow, in the move from Connecticut, all the Christmas ornaments disappeared, including all those my children had made in school over the years. There was no money for a treeful of ornaments, so we all sat around the table to make lots of big construction paper decorations, some of which still go on the tree every year.

That was our first Christmas tree with Henry. In 1975 we moved to New York City to live in his ancestral apartment. One year there we had a magical tree. A friend came in with presents and an angel he had made for the tree top. He gave it a casual toss across the room – and it landed gently, and perfectly, just where it should.

After four years in the city we moved to Heath.  The boys were out on their own so only the three girls made the move with us the day after Thanksgiving.

This time it was easy to cut down our own tree. It was growing right in front of the kitchen window, blocking the light and the view. It was big and beautiful and shapely. It was also a blue spruce, with stiff branches and the prickliest needles. It nearly killed us to get it cut down and into the house, fighting us every inch of the way.

From our elderly neighbor Mabel Vreeland we learned about snowbelts, and over time we planted a triple row of evergreens, tiny seedlings, purchased from the Conservation Service, along our road.  Our plan was to over -plant so that we could thin the snowbreak by taking out a Christmas tree every year. And that is what we have done. No longer do we trek through unfamiliar woods, but just down over our field. We don’t pay much attention to the snowbelt and sometimes the trees are small, sometimes tall, sometimes quite odd, but we can always say we planted them and grew them ourselves.

This year we have what I think of as a dancing tree. The trunk twists first one way and then the other. The branches go up on one side and down on the other.  If it were a Jules Feiffer cartoon character it would be dancing an ode to the solstice. There is lots of scope for ornaments.

No matter what the Christmas tree looks like – and when we spent a year in Beijing it was a potted osmanthus decorated with shiny ribbon and a handful of sequined ornaments – to me the evergreen tree (even the osmanthus) is the place where we gather with beloved family and friends to celebrate the generosity of the season.  And I don’t refer to all the shopping at the mall, but to the thought and kindnesses that we render each other throughout the season, the care we take of others when we make donations to the Food Bank or Warm the Children, and the prayers we utter for peace on earth, good will toward men.

Between the Rows   December 24, 2011

Christmas Joys and . . .

Son Philip, me, grandaugher Tracy with her daughters Lola and Bella

What is any big family celebration without a few tears. Alas, although Bella loves looking at photos of herself, she does not like knowing the camera is pointed at her. It is not often we get four generations together. What a gift. Tears and all.

Great Granny and Bella

Reading Aloud is one of my great pleasures – on any day of the year. I was happy to introduce Bella, oblivious to the camera now, to one of the great children’s book authors and illustrators in Massachusetts – Jan Brett. We had a good time looking at the wonderfully detailed illustrations in Daisy Comes Home.

We were thrilled that granddaughter Tracy and her family were visiting from Florida, and that they will be moving back to our area this year. The best gift of all.

Yesterday’s extravaganza was Chapter Two of Christmas 2011. We spent Christmas Eve with dear friends, Christmas Day with son Chris and his lady Michelle, and Chapter Three is scheduled for Thursday when we go east to celebrate with our two daughters, their children, and even a reprise of Philip’s branch.  I hope your Christmas cheer is lingering, too.

My Ornamented Life – Part 4

During our two different years in Beijing, China, Henry and I were untethered from all our usual responsibilities and routines. This was sometimes exciting, and sometimes unnerving as we learned about the 5000 years of Chinese history and culture, made wonderful friends from around the world, ate great food, and saw amazing sights.

Monkey King and Pigsy

We learned about the great Chinese classic, Journey to the West, and read the children’s version. We also met a five year old American boy who was living at the Friendship Hotel with his parents. Papa was teaching constitutional law! The boy loved Money King and had memorized the whole children’s version – all 36 volumes. He knew of all about Monkey’s mischief and valor, all his magic powers including his magic cudgel that Monkey kept behind his ear when it wasn’t needed. Monkey was travelling with his three companions, the (Buddhist) Monk, Friar Sand,  and Pigsy who can never totally control his appetites, at the Buddha’s request to bring the sutras back to China from the west. They have many exciting adventures along the way – and learn many lessons.

We were told that we could not begin to understand China until we had read the three great classics, Outlaws of the Marsh, Dream of Red Chamber, and Journey to the West.

Do you have ornaments, or books,  from any of your travels?

My Ornamented Life – Part 3

The Rooster crows, but the Hen delivers

One year my boss at Greenfield Community College gave me this ornament. I thought he was giving me a compliment, but no. He was merely acknowledging my flock of chickens and the eggs I brought to give out at work.

Have you even been given ornaments at work? Were they compliments?

We have lots of other chicken ornaments on our tree. I think chickens are cheerful, domestic and productive. I emulate the chicken.

Our Christmas Tree History

One view of our 2011 Christmas tree

We have had many different kinds of Christmas trees over the years. Below is a column I wrote in 2005 that chronicles our history in Christmas trees.

Many family Christmas memories revolve around the Christmas tree. These stories rarely have to do with the magnificence of the tree. In fact, Charlie Brown’s Christmas tree may be our culture’s most famous Christmas tree, standing for the true meaning of the season.

We have many family stories about our Christmas trees beginning with our first Christmas in Greenfield in 1971.  I was a single mother of five children when I came to town. Our life had changed and so had many of the family routines and rituals.

As a gift, a new friend invited me and the children out to the Heath wilderness (as yet totally unknown to us) for a picturesque outing to cut down our own tree. There had been snow and frigid weather, but that afternoon was relatively warm and sunny, a perfect day for a holiday outing.  The boys had disappeared, but the three girls aged 7, 9, and 10, and I set off with our friend caroling and laughing.

We got to Heath and started trekking through the woods. Unfortunately, though our friend was kind, he didn’t know much about Christmas trees, or even about the woodlot he drove us to. We found nothing resembling our fantasy Christmas tree. Even worse, the sun had softened the snow crust and the going was hard.  Kathy, at 7, was floundering and falling in the deep snow. Everyone was getting colder and wetter as the sun hid itself.  I decided that the next tree we saw would be the perfect tree. No arguments allowed. We cut it down, dragged it out to the road, and lashed it to the car. The car heater conked out and we were exhausted. There were no carols or happy chatter on the way home.

Happily, Henry, the man I had recently met and  would eventually marry, met us at the door. While I got the girls into hot baths and their warm nighties, Henry set up the tree. The trunk was crooked and it took lots of  guy wiring to hold it stable. The sparse branches started to drop their needles almost immediately and my two sons just hooted in derision when they finally made their appearance.

I said the tree gave us lots of scope for ornaments. Unfortunately, somehow, in the move from Connecticut, all the Christmas ornaments disappeared, including all those my children had made in school over the years. There was no money for a treeful of ornaments, so we all sat around the table to make lots of big construction paper decorations, some of which still go on the tree every year.

Better angled view of this year's tree

That was our first Christmas tree with Henry. In 1975 we moved to New York City to live in his ancestral apartment. One year there we had a magical tree. A friend came in with presents and an angel he had made for the tree top. He gave it a casual toss across the room – and it landed gently, and perfectly, just where it should.

After four years in the city we moved to Heath.  The boys were out on their own so only the three girls made the move with us the day after Thanksgiving.

This time it was easy to cut down our own tree. It was growing right in front of the kitchen window, blocking the light and the view. It was big and beautiful and shapely. It was also a blue spruce, with stiff branches and the prickliest needles. It nearly killed us to get it cut down and into the house, fighting us every inch of the way.

From our elderly neighbor Mabel Vreeland we learned about snowbelts, and over time we planted a triple row of evergreens, tiny seedlings, purchased from the Conservation Service, along our road.  Our plan was to over -plant so that we could thin the snowbreak by taking out a Christmas tree every year. And that is what we have done. No longer do we trek through unfamiliar woods, but just down over our field. We don’t pay much attention to the snowbelt and sometimes the trees are small, sometimes tall, sometimes quite odd, but we can always say we planted them and grew them ourselves.

This year we have what I think of as a dancing tree. The trunk twists first one way and then the other. The branches go up on one side and down on the other.  If it were a Jules Feiffer cartoon character it would be dancing an ode to the solstice. There is lots of scope for ornaments.

No matter what the Christmas tree looks like – and when we spent a year in Beijing it was a potted osmanthus decorated with shiny ribbon and a handful of sequined ornaments – to me the evergreen tree (even the osmanthus) is the place where we gather with beloved family and friends to celebrate the generosity of the season.  And I don’t refer to all the shopping at the mall, but to the thought and kindnesses that we render each other throughout the season, the care we take of others when we make donations to the Food Bank or Warm the Children, and the prayers we send for peace on earth good will toward men.

This year's tree with an ornamented history of our family

Between the Rows – December 2005

Festival of Trees

Festival of Trees, Springfield

On Tuesday afternoon I was signing my book at the Festival of Trees at Springfield’s Tower Square. There were the trees of course.

Brookings School Gospel Choir

I particularly enjoyed these singers from a local school

I got my picture taken by this tree with some extraordinarily colored poinsettias. What a  wonderful day. AND I  sold books. Do you have all your presents bought yet?

Last Day to Win

The Roses at the End of the Road

Today is the last opportunity you have to win a copy of my book about life on and off the Rose Walk, and Debra Lee Baldwin‘s book, Succulent Container Gardens: Design Eye-Catching Displays with 350 Easy-Care Plants. Click here and leave a comment by midnight tonight, December 6. I will announce the winner, chosen at random tomorrow morning by 9 am.

Four years ago, on December 6, the Feast of St. Nicholas, I gave myself a present that was sweeter than I ever imagined.  I began this blog and began new friendships, found new ideas and resources, and great enjoyment. And all I was looking for really, was a way to document the way my garden grew. I got so much more, including the encouragement to write The Roses at the End of the Road, which gave me a new way of sharing my pleasure in the Rose Walk. And the Rose Bank. And the Shed Bed.

I’ll be sharing that pleasure in front of the Festival of Trees at Tower Square in Springfield, today from noon to 2 pm and 4 to 6 pm where I will be signing my book and chatting with rose gardeners, and potential rose gardeners. Hope to see you there.

All’s Quiet

Life looks quiet here at the End of the Road, but looks are deceptive.  Yesterday I read and signed my book, The Roses at the End of the Road, at Boswell’s Books in Shelburne Falls. On my way home I stopped at a friend’s open house – and sold more books there! Tomorrow I will be signing books at Tower Square in Springfield, right outside the fabulous Festival of Trees exhibit. Expect some photos.

And inside the house work continues on my kitchen renovation. Fortunately, I can use the sink and the stove again! This is baking season.

It is also Giveaway Season. Tomorrow I celebrate four years of blogging, of learning, of meeting other skilled and helpful bloggers by giving away a copy of Debra Lee Baldwin’s inspiring and useful book, Succulent Container Gardens, and a copy of my own book.  Click here and leave a comment. You still have today and all day tomorrow to have a chance to win these two books. I will announce the winner, chosen at random on Wednesday, December 7.  Good luck.

The Harvard Forest

The Pre-colonial woodlands c. 1700

The Harvard Forest is located in Petersham. That is the first thing I learned about the Harvard Forest, which actually belongs to and is cared for by Harvard University. It is not located in the town of Harvard.

I first heard of the Harvard Forest and the Fisher Museum when I met John O’Keefe a year ago after he had retired from his position at the Harvard Forest. Recently I called O’Keefe because I wanted to know why I suddenly seemed to be seeing so many beech trees in our local woodlands. Beeches are easy to identify at this time of the year because they retain their leaves, even as they turn gold, and then brown and crisp. O’Keefe explained that the younger trees are even more likely to hold on to a good portion of their leaves because they are immature and do not yet produce the hormones that cause the leaves to drop.

When I told him that the trees I saw seemed to be pretty much of an age and were growing in groves he said one possibility was that these young trees were not seedlings but root suckers. “Several years ago many beech trees were attacked by beech bark disease. When the bark on the tree was damaged, stress caused the tree’s roots to send up suckers which grow rapidly.” He further explained that not all those root suckers would survive to adulthood, just as not every seed that germinates would survive to adulthood.

In another discussion with O’Keefe a few days later, he said he had been talking with a forester about the forests in Weston. Although there are only three mature beech groves in the Weston forests, this forester had also been impressed by all the ‘new’ beeches growing in the area. He cut isolated saplings in order to age them and found that they were all about 20 to 25 years old. He was so interested in this explosion of beeches that he sent samples to a lab for DNA testing and learned that they were all saplings, growing from seed.

Beech trees, obviously enough, produce beech nuts, sometimes called mast. The nuts should have germinated near the parent trees, but new groves were sprouting in new locations. The theory? Twenty to 25 years ago is when the wild turkey began its resurgence. Perhaps turkeys carried the beech nuts to more distant locations, much as other birds spread various seeds to new areas.

This is how I learn. One thing leads to another. A call to O’Keefe about my observations of  a beech tree explosion led to information about plant disease, plant hormones, propagation by root suckers, and plant dispersal by wildlife.

Having gotten so much information from O’Keefe in just a couple of friendly conversations, I decided to stop in at the Harvard Forest on my way home from Cambridge last week. Harvard University has managed the forest and used it as a research and educational facility for over 100 years. Originally intended as a laboratory to teach sustainable forest management, the focus of research changed after the 1938 hurricane destroyed 70 percent of the forest. Now research concentrates on soils and the ecological processes that affect forest development.

Since I was not ready to go trekking the trails in the forest that day I contented myself with a visit to the Fisher Museum, named for Professor Richard T. Fisher who founded and directed the first years of Harvard Forest. The Museum is small, but it is famous for the 23 dioramas that illustrate the landscape history of the New England woodlands from before the early colonists arrived, as well as issues of forest management and conservation.

John O’Keefe and David Foster have written a fascinating book titled “New England Forest Through Time: Insights from the Harvard Forest Dioramas,” which lays out in substantive form the history of our landscape and illustrates for the general reader, and landowner, new ways of looking at our woodlands and information about how those woodlands can be managed sustainably, with awareness of the ecological impact.

A scavenger hunt sheet will help children focus on the details of the dioramas while they begin to understand the changes in a woodland over time.

There are education programs for students beyond Harvard, from a summer research program for undergraduates from other institutions including community colleges, who need not be science majors, to a program with the Overlook Middle School in Ashburnham where students gather seasonal budburst and color change information from a webcam set up in the schoolyard trees. This Schoolyard Ecology webcam is the first of four more webcams to be installed in other school locations in the near future. The information the young students gather can be compared with webcams in the Harvard Forest. The whole program is part of a national phenology project. The goal is to study the influence of climate on the recurrence of annual phenomena like leaf budding.

Having discovered the Harvard Forest, or more specifically the Fisher Museum, I am now looking forward to visiting the Forest itself, and learning more from the volunteer guides who are on duty during the good weather. We have an old field white pine plantation that is self seeded, and so far those trees have escaped the dreaded white pine weevil. I am looking forward to learning more and becoming a more responsible forest manager.

The first settlements cleared woodlands

Between the Rows  November 26, 2011

DON”T FORGET - I’ll be reading my book, The Roses at the End of the Road, at Boswell’s Books, Sunday, December 4 at 2 pm. Hope to see you there. AND I’ll be signing books at Tower Square in Springfield on Tuesday, December 6 from noon to 2 pm and 4-6 pm next to the splendid Festival of Trees.

ALSO – if you want to win a copy of my book, and a copy of Debra Lee Baldwin’s Succulent Container Gardens, click here and leave a comment. I will have a drawing on Dec. 7 to celebrate my 4th blogoversary.

Thanksgiving

“Come ye thankful people come,

Raise the song of harvest home:

All is safely gathered in,

Ere the winter storms begin.”

Well, we had our first winter storms, and not quite everything was gathered in this year. Many farmers lost substantial portions of their crops. Now the eternal cry of farmers and gardeners is heard in the land, “There’s always next year.”

Yet as we arrive at Thanksgiving this year, still struggling with storm damage and losses, we must come with thankful hearts, grateful for caring neighbors and communities, for skilled town and utility workers, for all that we did gather in, and for all that we are able to share.

I have to confess that my own small vegetable garden supplies only a small portion of what we eat, so one of the things I give thanks for every year is the amount of fresh local food that I can buy. Sometimes I only have to go as far as the center of Heath where a neighbor sells asparagus and extra vegetables out in front of his house. Sometimes I go to the farmers markets and I often go to farm stands and Hager’s farm store on Route 2 where I can buy milk and meat as well as vegetables and fruit.

Eating local food does at least three things for me. First it gives me the most delicious and nutritious food because it has not lost its savor or vitamins while on its long trip to the supermarket. Second, local food supports the farmers in the area who give me the rural landscape that I love. As well as delicious produce. Thirdly, eating local food is good for our regional economy because it keeps my money in the community. And, it might even help keep a few people employed.

Most of the teens at their own table

I am not the main Thanksgiving cook this year. We’ll be traveling to my son’s house where the rest of the family will gather as well. I don’t know the full extent of the menu because it is coming from many directions, but I know it would be easy to have a completely local meal, certainly a meal in which everything was produced in Massachusetts.

This year I bought my chickens, all healthily raised and beautifully cleaned and packaged from Wilder Brook CSA. Turkeys were available too, as are turkeys from the historic Diemand Farm in Wendell. Gone are the days when I raised my own meat birds and pigs.

There is no difficulty in getting local vegetables, squash, beets, carrots, turnips, potatoes, onions, garlic, shallots and kale. For years I have prided myself on harvesting the last Brussels sprouts for Thanksgiving dinner, but this year I had to rescue the last sprouts from the rabbits and we finished eating them a week or two ago. At least those bunnies didn’t eat the winter squash, so I will be able to serve that.

Wonderful fruit is available from local orchards and the farmers market. I know everyone demands pumpkin pie on Thanksgiving, but I demand apple pie as well. Apple pie, apple sauce, apple crisp and apple pan dowdy are standards on my dining table once apple season arrives. There are a lot of ways to enjoy the prescribed apple a day. Cider, too.

I am so glad that there will now be a winter farmers market the first Saturday of every month in Greenfield at the Second Congregational Church on Court Square. If your feet are used to taking you to the regular farmers market they will only have to take you a few steps further.

Have you thought about what local delicacies you will serve at your Thanksgiving dinner?

I am thinking about making a potato and rutabaga gratin that should travel well. My Swedish grandparents made a potato and rutabaga mash when I was a child. None of us cousins liked it much. I think rutabagas might be too strongly flavored for children. We tried to get it down with the help of ketchup. My grandparents did not approve.

4 T. butter                                                  2 T. olive oil

4 cloves garlic finely chopped           1 medium onion thinly sliced

¼ c. flour                                                     2 c. milk

1 c. heavy cream                                       1 lb russet potatoes, peeled and very                                                                                        thinly sliced

1 lb rutabaga, peeled and very thinly sliced          1T. minced thyme

2 c. Gruyere cheese (I may substitute some other local cheese)

salt and pepper to taste

Heat oven to 425 degrees. Heat butter and oil in large saucepan over medium heat. Add garlic and onion, cook, stirring often til soft, about 6 minutes. Stir in flour and cook till smooth, about 1 minutes. Add milk and cream, stir til smooth. Add potatoes, rutabagas and thyme and bring mixture to a boil. Cook until vegetables are tender and break apart. Stir in half of the cheese, salt and pepper. Transfer to a 9×13 inch buttered baking dish. Top with remaining cheese and bake til golden and bubbling, about 25 minutes.

I haven’t given a recipe in a long time, but this dish using common local veggies, including my own garlic, is in memory of my grandparents, and served with a large measure of gratitude for my family, for my garden and for our local farmers. There will be no ketchup on the table.

The traditional football viewing

Between the Rows  November 19, 2011