This year we decided to cut a tree from a local tree farm. Usually we just meander into our back woods but we never came across a sweet pine and seemed to long for that woodsy, holiday smell. Our local police officer boils sap into syrup in the spring and grows trees to sell in the winter. We headed over in our truck, saw in hand. It always takes awhile to find just the tree. We walked the rows many times before coming upon a short, plump one. It is our Botero tree and I am quite smitten with it.
My heart always skips a beat when we actually cut it down. I feel a bit badly. But then I remember what my Dad says which is that to sacrifice something means to make it holy. So we cut the tree with gratefulness and intention and care for it while it is in our home. We water it each morning and I find myself staring at it many times though out the day. It's branches are covered in small white lights. It is a light that I am so happy to have as our days get darker towards solstice. Thank you little, fat, beautiful, holy tree.