ARCHIVES

Three-Six-Five

After years of searching, endless days and sleepless nights I finally found it.  No markers or road signs alerting drivers to its existence; just the faint scent of pine drifting toward the road.  The Christmas Tree Graveyard.  If children saw their tree haphazardly tossed in amongst other trees without its due respect they’d be furious.  Used for a seasonal holiday to shade and protect multitudes of gifts while adorning rooms with its aroma, now a pile of mulch ready for spring and the promise of new growth.

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