My mother loved to decorate. The day after Thanksgiving she would have my brother and I retrieve the holiday decorations that were neatly packed away in the attic. We would untangle the strings of outdoor lights and the tree lights making sure that the wire insulation was still intact and making sure all the lights would light up. We would unpack all the bright colored Christmas tree decorations and the old nativity scene that would be displayed on a small round table in a corner next to the tree, But the best part for me was hiking over a couple of hills and deep into the woods to one of my favorite boyhood hideaways. My mom would delay putting lights around the front door until I returned with a bag filled with Ground Pine and Holly.
I usually would start off on a Saturday with a large plastic bag in hand. Snow flurries would begin to fall and soon the ground turned white. About an hour later I arrive at my destination. There was a huge, every bit of 12 feet tall, Holly tree standing next to a really old crumbling field-stone building. Holly yrees grow very, very slow, and this one had to be really old. I never did find out what or why that building was standing in the middle of this densely wooded area. But, this place, the hike, the Holly and Ground Pine was all a part of my annual tradition. I gathered as much Ground Pine, which grows like a vine creeping along the forest floor, and trimmed as much Holly from the tree, that my bag would hold.
It was a special time for me as well as my mom. She would pull out the long strings of pine from the bag and fasten them to the door frame. Then onto the pine she fastened the string of lights. The Holly would be used to decorate the table with the Nativity scene.
Mom would hum along with Bing Crosby’s “Silent Night” as she decorated and little did I know at the time that this annual event would be remembered many years in the future.