Planting the Christmas trees

I know… it’s April… I should have planted them much earlier, but honestly, I didn’t think they’d live… I didn’t believe they would live through winter with me as their caregiver.  But sure enough this spring they were showing new growth… a lot of new growth!

I thought about where to plant them and finally had made the decision to put them in front of the house.  I re-read the tag about spacing, and how tall they get and got a tape measure and a shovel.  As I started digging the hole, my brain wandered.

I thought about the gloves I was wearing… John’s gloves.  I knew how much he’d liked the gloves… they were thin enough that you could still be pretty tactile and at the same time they gave you good protection.  I believe they are called mechanics gloves.  He wore them for farm work.

John and I both were pretty finicky about our gloves and got attached to a certain pair and went through a bunch of pairs to find one we like.  On occasion, I’ll wear his gloves- they’re usually a little big, but sometimes that doesn’t matter too much.  And… John had good taste in gloves… no use in letting them go to waste.

I dug deeper with the shovel and then I thought about what I was doing… I was wearing John’s gloves to plant his and his parents’ cemetery trees… in our yard.  And not just anywhere in our yard, but several feet where John and I had gotten married… had made the promises to each other to love each other in sickness and in health…

Funny how the mind can wander…

Newly planted trees

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About Mary K. Smith

I was widowed in July 2009, when I lost my beloved husband, John, to melanoma. Cancer SUCKS. We have a young son who was just a year old when his father died. I live on a small farm in Maryland which is home to horses, cats, and a dog. I started this blog as a way for me to heal, a way to remember my husband, and eventually I'd like to share it with our son so he can see the love that his father had for him, the love that we had for each other, what a great person his father was, and how hard his father fought to live.
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