Christmas tree Archives - Owl Medicine: Shamanic Healing

Massive Evergreen

Before the season ends, I want to post a couple photos I took of a massive evergreen that’s in a yard near my home. The way this tree is decorated thrums my heartstrings. I don’t know why, either.

Perhaps it’s the sheer effort it took for the homeowners’ to decorate such a huge tree. That’s a consideration, for sure. And even though I know people hire firms to come and do their decorating using all sorts of major equipment, it doesn’t feel like that’s the case in this situation. I don’t know why – and maybe I’m totally wrong.

I think the biggest thing that impresses me about this tree is how they took the time to swoop the lights in arcs. It looks like a classically decorated old-fashioned Christmas tree. And it is simply lovely.

Spooky Photos

The neighbors who decorate this tree so lovingly have done so for a couple of years. I drove past a number of times last year, though, and didn’t see the tree lit up even once. So I was doubly delighted to see the lights back on this year.

Thus I found myself stopping completely in the middle of the roadway the other night and rolling down my window. It was rainy and miserable, yet there were no other cars approaching from either direction. I wanted to try to somehow capture the beauty of this tree to share with you, and this seemed to be the perfect opportunity.

Cue the Eerie Music

None of the photos I took came even close. But a few actually seemed especially odd. The one at the top of this post, for instance. Honestly, to me the tree looks like a phantom, with a bluish tinge that could be straight out of a Tim Burton movie. (OK, it would probably also need some huge bright red teeth or something to morph out of the center of the tree to swallow my car to be truly Tim Burtonesque.)

I tried with and without the night setting on my phone, adjusted the timing, tried other techniques, but nothing could capture the utter beauty I find whenever I look at this tree.

And maybe that’s a truth I need to sit with this year. We can’t always capture the essence of a moment, experience, or companion on film. Indeed, it’s rare. So the best gift we can give ourselves is to truly be in the moment of first-hand perception.

Why am I fascinated by this tree? – Photo: L. Weikel

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Last night’s sunset – Photo: L. Weikel

All Talked Out

There’s something about the silence that holds hands with the darkness of winter nights. I know it’s not yet technically winter (we have 12 days to go), but you might be forgiven for not realizing that fact if your only barometer was listening. It’s almost as if the world is all talked out.

Most of the leaves on the deciduous trees have fallen to the ground or been blown far and wide, so there’s barely a rustle now when a wind kicks up. Crickets and katydids have been gone for weeks and peepers and tree frogs have burrowed deep in the mud in their attempts to escape getting nicked by Jack Frost.

Of course, the silence is what’s speaking to me this evening. I find myself remembering writing with the front door wide open, a cacophony of wildlife from insects to four leggeds to winged ones sharing the night with me.

I’ve written before of my comfort with being immersed in quiet. Winter (or pre-winter) nights are simply the best for contemplation and reflection. Sometimes I have to reel myself back in, realizing I’ve been surfing the edge of presence and now have 15 fewer minutes in which to write a post.

No Tree Yet

Truth be told, the only thing I’m missing right now are the lights of a Christmas tree. That’s actually a most excellent excuse to leave the house this weekend, as it won’t entail going inside anywhere to secure one except to pay. The exponential increases in infections are not to be ignored. We’re being careful, but every day things feel riskier and riskier.

The fact that we’ve not bought or put one up yet this year has us running a bit behind schedule – at least in comparison to recent years. We’re actually pretty much on schedule with the way my parents bought a tree, though. We’d always get our tree ‘right around Carol’s birthday,’ which this year will be this Thursday. (Yes, this is the Carol of Carol’s Chocolate Cake.)

So maybe this year’s Christmas tree hunt will harken back more to my childhood than that of my own kids’. And no Karl, it will not bring back the good ol’ days of melting tinsel on the Christmas tree’s lights.

Wind Chiming

Aaah. Just as I’m writing about the silence of winter, the wind chimes Karl and I gave each other for our anniversary are nuzzled by a baby blow of cold. Just enough to magically ring but one single note over and over, carrying it down the yard to the barn and back again. “Ding…ding… ding.”

How is the whispering wind managing to kiss the chimes ever so precisely as to ring only one tone out of five? Somehow that single note only heightens my realization that I’m all talked out.

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