Out of the Frying Pan

Anticipation

Turning to look at us three boys who were now all puffed up with pride at our parts in bringing home such a fine specimen for a Christmas tree, Grandpa said, “Lenny and Mike, you take it off the sled over by the smokehouse. Lanny, you fetch the knapsack and come with me so we can get the front room ready for it.”

Grandpa and Lanny headed off around the house, and Lenny and I pulled the sled over near the smokehouse and started untying the tree. Even Lenny admitted it was a beauty. We were just putting the sled away when Grandpa came down the steps of the back porch, carrying his homemade tree stand.

It was kind of funny-looking for a tree stand. It looked like a big squatty funnel with a large opening for different tree trunk sizes and winged screws, probably from c-clamps. On one side there was a place to pour sugar water with tea mixed in. The sugar water fooled the tree into thinking it was sap and the tea was to keep the tree green longer.

Grandpa picked up the saw and trimmed off more from the trunk, wrapped the bottom in a layer of cotton, covered it with burlap, then slid the tree into the stand. He stood back to survey his handiwork. “Alright, Lenny, let’s get it into the house.” He and Lenny took off with the tree as I put up the saw and hatchet. I came back in through the back door, straight through the kitchen and into the front room.

There it stood, right in the middle of the front room window. Even without decorations, it was beautiful. The light from the fireplace made it look as if it was covered with twinkling lights as the flames flickered. Grandpa said, “Tomorrow when we’re done working, we’ll decorate.”

We had another fine supper and after the table was cleared and the dishes were put away, we all gathered in the front room. Grandpa started playing Christmas music on his fiddle, song after song, finishing with Silent Night. That particular song played on a fiddle is the most unforgettable sound, the likes of which I haven’t heard since.

After Grandpa played the final note he said, “It was a Silent Night, now good night to you boys, it’s time for bed.”

We all got ready, said our good nights to one another, then crawled into our beds. I laid there, looking at the glow of the potbelly stove for a while, then quietly got up and went into the front room for one last look at the Christmas tree. I stood there in that firelit room for a few minutes, admiring the shape and size of the tree that I’d cut myself. Then I went back to bed and fell right to sleep.

The next morning, like usual, Grandpa was up before me. We had our breakfast, then walked out to the barn. My brothers were cutting up like always, until they stepped through the barn door. Their demeanor changed quickly when faced with the chore ahead, knowing that it wouldn’t be tiddly-winks they’d be flipping. As for me, I had all the strength in the world. I was working so fast that Bowl’s droopy jowls were making a rut in the floor as he watched me going back and forth. I was caught up in no time flat and went over to where Grandpa was and asked if he needed help.

He looked up at me from his milking stool and said, “You mean to tell me you’re a-caught up on your chores already?”

“Yes, sir, except for getting the eggs and pitching the hay down from the loft.”

Grandpa laughed and said, “Is there something going on I don’t know about?”

“No, sir. You said last night that we were gonna decorate when we had our work done.”

“Oh, I remember that. I tell you what, when I’m done here, I’ll call ya when I’m going over to the chicken coop. I’m sure you can find something to keep you busy until then.”

“Yes, sir,” I replied and off I went to pet and talk to the animals.