Christmas In July

My Grandmommy, on my Daddy’s side, had a small dogwood tree in her yard. The tree was maybe six feet tall, not very large really, but to short kids, it was huge. It was planted within a few feet of the carport at the “new” house (I’ll get to the old house later) in the center of a discarded tractor tire. If I had to guess, she likely went to the woods and dug it up, brought it home and planted it. She did that a lot, taking something growing in the wild and coaxing it to live in her yard. She had a green thumb that way, although I didn’t inherit the gene myself. The tire was filled with dirt, most likely in the hopes of someday planting flowers there surrounding the base of the tree. But little feet and hands kept the dirt packed tight, making it impossible to grow much of anything but dust and mud when it rained. But for some reason, Grandmommy never seemed to mind.


That tree became our Christmas Tree. Even though the season was wrong and the sandy dirt hot against our bare feet, we hunted high and low for bits and pieces to use for ornaments. One of our favorite places to explore while looking for treasure was the old burn pile behind Granddaddys’ shed, where they discarded their trash (before the Garbage Collection people started coming door to door). This pile of rubble was a treasure trove for girls with an active imagination such as we possessed. At the barn we discovered twine, pulled from bales of hay and discarded on the ground in the center hall. There were tote sacks hanging on the rails and bits of cotton from old raggedy saddle blankets. It was difficult to understand how anyone could throw away such useful and amazing things! We could find uses for much of it……and did.

From the garbage we pulled bits of colorful broken bowls and glasses, discarded pot pie containers, shiny metal tops off jars of snuff and the lids off of various sizes of tin cans. They became beautiful ornaments when tied with bits of twine, dangling from the limbs of that dogwood tree. Long lengths of twine became the rope, short arms having to tie it to a rock and toss it as high as we could to get it wrapped haphazardly around the tree. Bits of hay and cotton, tied together with that same rope became decorations also. The tote sacks were wrapped around the base of the tree for a skirt and our tree was done. Now to show Grandmommy…

I can still recall Grandmommy’s face when she came to see our masterpiece, although I am not sure whether it was dismay or laughter brimming in her eyes. To us, our tree was beautiful, as lovely a tree as has ever been decorated. To an adult, I am sure it left much to be desired. The rope was looped messily across the branches, bunched in several places, and others having none at all. The majority of the shiny ornaments and pieces of glass were, without fail, strung from the lower branches, the top ones having none at all. They were lovely spinning and swaying gently in the summer breeze! The tote sacks, dusty and stained as they were from laying around the stables gave the smell of a barnyard to our mid-summer festivities. It was a sight to behold.

The praise we received that day for our efforts I have never forgotten, as well as the laughter in Grandmommy’s voice as she said it. To this day, I still wonder who cleaned up our mess. Likely her. She was a wonderful lady with a heart large enough to hold love for everyone. I love you Grandmommy. Always.