I was walking down Second Avenue in the 20s when the scent hit me—the fresh, crisp and comforting scent of pine. It is that time of the year again, the time when the Christmas tree sellers from Maine and Vermont and upstate NY are in New York City, ready to sell their wares. The trees line the sidewalks and you can barely maneuver around them, but it is worth it for the fragrance. So begins Christmastime and so begins opportunities to sniff the divine and earthly aroma of fresh cut pine.
I love to decorate with pine of all sorts. For our front doors, we always find beautiful pine wreaths. The lovely scent of mixed pine and pine cones drifted from the wreaths as I attached pretty bows to them before hanging them up. And an unfortunate windy day that caused branches from my neighbors white pine to fall on our fence, resulted in a good thing—lovely sprays of pine that I used to decorate the flowerpots that flank our front door. We haven’t yet gotten our Christmas tree, but I look forward to its arrival along with the festive and yummy scent of fresh cut pine. Every moment is magical when pine fills the air.
Applied Geometry
By Russell Libby
Applied geometry,
measuring the height
of a pine from
like triangles,
Rosa’s shadow stretches
seven paces in
low-slanting light of
late Christmas afternoon.
One hundred thirty nine steps
up the hill until the sun is
finally caught at the top of the tree,
let’s see,
twenty to one,
one hundred feet plus a few to adjust
for climbing uphill,
and her hands barely reach mine
as we encircle the trunk,
almost eleven feet around.
Back to the lumber tables.
That one tree might make
three thousand feet of boards
if our hearts could stand
the sound of its fall.
XOXO Rachel
Wondrance 