when The Yard Man hauled that Douglas Fir tree home and we sat it in a bucket of water on the porch. It was already dying, you know, and I hoped that the outside cold air might extend its green life at least until the tree has served its life purpose. There it sat for a week, until yesterday. I mustered up my courage, did the annual trek to the attic to scrounge around for all the paraphernalia, and supervised the anchoring of the tree into the stand (Only Son happened to stop by, oh, so providentially. He assisted with the top-level job of Vertical Verifiability [no easy chore, Reader Dear, when the trunk has got twists and turns of which the supervisor was previously unaware)] And, speaking of twists and turns, the tree has been subjected to quite a few as I aim to put its best face forward [Its got more flaws than formerly found at the farm!])
So, now you see it, Viewer Dear,
The naked Douglas Fir, awaiting its destiny.
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