So I, like Gary Cooper in High Noon, sought help with the Christmas Tree and found only tumbleweeds and a far-away whistling sound, accompanied by the distant slamming of doors. Alone, I dragged the poor spruce outside like a rejected Old Yeller of a pine, all the way to our compost heap. In a final protest, the tree left needle marks in the newfallen snow.
"Sorry," I told it as it stood, graceful and tall, against the fence, emitting its beautiful scent. "But the birds need you." To prove this point, my sons and I made some little packages for the birds and left them inside the tree. We'd recently been slammed with about two feet of snow, and the birds were having a rough time finding victuals. My sons spread peanut butter on some biodegradable coffee filters, then sprinkled bird seed on top of this. My nature-loving friends tell me that peanut butter and bird seed is a most indulgent treat for birds. We also filled a little lid with more birdseed and left it sitting on a branch.
This way, I told myself, nature was giving back to nature, and I wouldn't have to lose sleep over putting out a tree that was mainly still alive.
But next year--next year I'll dig that hole in advance. I'll have the location all picked out, and I won't have to worry about the frozen ground. I'll let the tree have its Christmas adornments, and then I'll send it back to nature in a new location and be able to enjoy its beauty for the rest of our lives--the tree's and mine. :)