Christmas Spirit, Holler Style

Back a few years ago, when I was still trying to connect to my inner Martha Stewart, I kept a pretty little flower bed around the trailer. It was lined with rocks and had everything from mini roses to ginormous elephant ears, but Ma was convinced my little flower garden was the cause of our kitchen ant invasion, leading to it's eventual demise at the hands of Aunt Moses and her weed eater.

Before the ruthless vegacide took place, I had found a tiny sprig of something growing in my little garden. It seemed to be some sort of pine and since Ma had paid our neighbor to cut down the geriatric old pine in the front yard, I decided to nurture it, let it grow and see what happened. I eventually transplanted the tiny sapling near the home of the old pine where I'd climbed as a child and now it towers above us all.

This holiday season, the Amazon decided the tree needed lights. Although I tried to explain to her that there was no way either of us were going to be able to reach the top, she was adamant. She bought a giant box of lights, extension cords and an assortment of lighted Christmas gifts to go around the bottom. After work yesterday, I backed the truck up to the tree and climbed in the back, armed with our handy dandy light hanging tool, a broom handle with a stretched out coat hanger duct taped to the end.

There's nothing like a little redneck ingenuity to get you in the Christmas spirit.

By then it had gotten dark, so we worked by the glow of the street light over by the Dubya estate. I'm sure the hill folk heading by our house and up Fall Branch after a long day at work were entertained by the sight of the two ample forms leaning dangerously over the tailgate of a pickup truck, waving a stick around in the darkness. It must have looked like we were taking part in some kinda pine tree abuse ritual.

There were grunts, groans, giggles and the occasional utterance of a few four letter wordy dirties, but we eventually did get the lights on the tree, if only around the middle.

They are not straight.

They are not even.

But it glows in the darkness, shedding a tiny bit of Christmas spirit in our little corner of the holler.

As Martha would say, "It's a good thing."

Ya'll have a happy Humpday. Hump it like Santa's elves on December 23rd.. 'cuz you know they hump it hard.

Later Taters!