Christmas is Coming, the Trees are Trimmed
Walking back from the beaver ponds where I was scouting for elk and ducks, I had my head down as I was heading back toward the house and my hood up. I didn’t worry about keeping quiet on the way back, I had already scared up all the game in the woods and the pasture.
I slowly started to realize that I could hear voices, which spooked me a bit. The fog was rising, I’m supposed to be alone. Then the closer I got to the house I could hear it wasn’t talking, it was singing.
The sun was rising and the fog lifting and I could hear singing coming from the tree farm. The Mexican workers were over there, I figured, they are known for singing while they work, singing and laughing. I love the sound.
And this singing was like a hymn of praise for the sun and the blue sky and the beautiful day and all the gifts surrounding us — all of us, for I was part of their community while I was there and listening and communing with the same outdoor beauty they were.
I could see a spot of red off in the distance, I focused the camera and took a couple a pictures of the workers. I knew it wouldn’t be a good shot, but it would remind me of the glorious singing.
When I came home, I downloaded the photos and didn’t think much more about them. Tonight I was looking through some photos, weeding out the bad, examining the good. I zoomed in on the red splotch.
He is on stilts!
And then I zoomed in and looked through the forest of Christmas trees. They’re ALL on stilts!
“I wonder if gratefulness is the bridge from sorrow to joy, spanning the chasm of our anxious striving. Freed from the burden of unbridled desires, we can enjoy what we have, celebrate what we’ve attained, and appreciate the familiar. For if we can’t be happy now, we’ll likely not be happy when.” ~Philip Gulley, Porch Talk