Christmas Day

On Christmas Day, in freezing temperatures but no snow, my husband, Lizzy and I got in the car (the two of us with much more enthusiasm than she, who is not a car dog, unlike Rusty who loved any trillita in the car, even if it was just moving the car out of the garage onto the driveway). We were headed to the beautiful main trail of my small college on the hill, right next to a river, and surrounded by fields and forest. Our nearby trails were muddy by recent rains so we opted for the paved trail to give Lizzy at least one walk that day.

I brought my camera along, just in case, but the only photo we got was of this fallen sycamore. I love those trees, especially in winter when they look like the pale ghosts of the forest, and was sorry to see this one uprooted, probably by the recent windstorms.

I remember my beautiful ficus tree, the one I had had for years in a pot and which my husband planted outside our house in Puerto Rico. Although it had remained small and puny in the pot, the ficus grew into a gorgeously queen-like tree after it was planted. But then Hurricane Georges came in 1998 and uprooted it, and I wept for days. Now I have a ficus and it's safely and happy, if not majestic, in a pot. Sometimes some kinds of freedom can be overrated.