I made a friend. I didn’t expect when Bruce the Spruce joined us in December that he would not only be the best little tree, he would grow and inspire thoughts of “what else have I been missing?”A recap: I was going to be travelling to UK for part of the holidays; Christmas trees were in short supply this year in our hometown; and Art and I both like the idea of a live tree. Bruce, who told me his name on the drive home from Morrison’s Garden Center, was shy at first. Until, he saw his sparkling lights. And his starry chapeau. And met his new friends. Waffles, of course. Chunky squirrel. Charlie the Cardinal (and Claudine). And the kinda scary, Thor the Cooper’s Hawk. We told him to look away when the Turkey Vultures were resting in the pines across the street. He didn’t need to see them.
Bruce held forth on our new porch, outside the French doors, keeping us company for morning coffee and my afternoon book time. What I didn’t expect (duh) was how much he would grow. Almost a foot taller. He has shaken his limbs out so that they catch the snow when it falls. He can look over the railing at the pond with the sleeping koi. When the weather warms, he can join the cedar tree in the lower yard, the better to grow.
I imagine him surrounded by daffodils in spring and the warm sweetness of the nearby peach tree. I imagine a lot, really. A book for grandbabe Bergie, maybe for next holidays.
In my Christmas stocking, my daughter gave me a tiny planter, with spruce seeds … and with an assist, Bruce took root next to the giant fir tree, the better to be inspired to great heights.