Considering the title of this posting, those among you of a literary persuasion may nod knowingly and admire the subtle reference to Betty Smith’s semi-autobiographical novel of 1943, “A Tree Grows in Brooklyn.” Others of you may simply wonder how the heck a tree could shrink.
In fact, this posting is a follow-up to yesterday’s brief article (“Timber!”), in which I showed what happened to our village’s Christmas tree when high winds hit Daglan. It was, to put it simply, knocked flat.
This morning, as I drove north out of Daglan, I saw our village’s two male workers on site, struggling to get the tree back in place. Because it had literally snapped off at the lower part of the trunk, the workers had to saw away some of the lower branches, to create a long-enough lower trunk to hold up the tree. And finally, here it is, just after noon today:
So it’s up, just a bit shorter than it was. On the plus side, I believe that if the workers used all the decorations that had been on the tree before the fall, the decorations-per-square-inch-of-exposed-tree-surface would be a touch higher.
Merry Christmas, and let’s hope for no more storms. At least for a while.