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Christmas in the Woods

It wasn't bitterly cold but cold enough. Cold enough to dress the chihuahua in a Christmas sweater. We pulled into the Christmas tree farm, a smaller one in town. It was missing the hut with Christmas ornaments and the grown men with Christmas hats. No hot cocoa or tip jars.  It has something different.

A  three-minute walk from the farm, up a little hill and the baubles begin.  Red and green, silver and white.  Hundreds, if not thousands, are hung from bare branches.  The wire ornament holders are bent and wrapped around each branch a precaution against windy nights, I suppose.  Puppy (who is no longer a puppy) strains at his leash loving the smells of the woods.

He stops desperate to unearth something buried beneath the detritus of fall.  I tug him along.

"Come on. " I say,  "We haven't even gotten to the best part."

Puppy obliges and keeps pace with my daughter.  Her strides longer, she's ahead of me. Her long hair a golden contrast against her cranb…

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