Tinseltown

I posted earlier about my giving in - after 16 years - and putting icicle tinsel on the Christmas tree. I grew up loving the shimmery look of the silver tinsel on the green boughs, but I remembered the lingering strands and mess of clean-up. This year, Aden's request overwhelmed my reservations until yesterday, when we took down the tree and took it to mulching, where the sign clearly stated: NO tinsel on branches!

The shiny strands were already in the litter box, the clothes hamper, the stair carpet runner, and the dishwasher. When we pulled the lights off and dragged the tree outside, the tinsel migrated to our geranium pots and dying ivy at the front gate. Despite the mass migration, there was still plenty left on the tree when I backed the minivan up to the compost pile and read the sign.  Aden and Daniel helped me scrape strands into the dirt parking lot while other people arrived with their annoying clean trees and cheerfully flung them on the  heap. "Happy New Year," said one, while another noted, "Tinsel's not good for the compost pile."  Thank you for that.

We finally cleaned the tree to near perfection. Aden then noticed the heaps of tinsel left in the dirt, inconveniently catching the afternoon sun and sparkling for all they were worth. "That can't be good for the environment," she noted.  "We have to pick that up."

So proud of her for noticing and for caring about the environment, but so tired of picking up tinsel, I found a broken bough and swept the parking lot until only clean dirt remained.  Then, begrimed and tired, we went off to the supermarket, where we all used copious wet wipes (meant for the shopping carts) to get the dust and pitch off our hands while the employee returning a long line of carts looked on, amused. Tinsel next year will depend on my memory of the clean-up, but it was so pretty while it lasted.