The Long Wait to Die

The picture below is of a local Christmas tree farm. I thought the pattern of the trees beneath the drama in the sky deserved a picture. Then I started thinking about the trees. I really enjoy Christmas; it’s one of my favorite times of year. I have had real trees that I decorated to celebrate the holiday season in the past but I haven't for a few years now. I have a smaller pre-lit (4’) “fake” tree that my wife and I decorate shortly after Thanksgiving. I talked myself into the artificial tree with arguments such as the ease of care, the lack of mess, even the “If I miss the evergreen smell, I can light a scented candle” rationalization.

I don’t want to get all tree hugging fanatical, but it’s kind of strange how we treat the Christmas tree. I realize it’s not the same as farming livestock, or fish to eat as food, but it isn’t the same as harvesting wheat or grain for nourishment either. The Christmas tree exists for our entertainment; at least that’s the only purpose I can see for inviting one into our home. It’s few weeks of green luster and aromatic pines dwindle, and it is irreverently disposed of in the trash.

In my youth the Christmas tree represented the coming of the holidays, the warmth of family, the joy of friends, the anticipation of gifts and the singing of carols. Today, maybe I‘ve realized that emotion rests within me and I have no need for a dying tree to awaken it anymore.

Nikon D800 Sigma 85mm f/1.4 @ 85mm f/16 ISO 100 1/15 sec.