Where did your Christmas tree come from?

I don't know where yours came from, but mine came from across the street. There's a small tree farm over there, and every year this little sign appears along the road.

If you walk or drive up the road, you'll pass the farm - a patch of about 1/2 acre of lovely trees, ranging from tabletop size to over 6', each one perfectly manicured to be shaped like, well, a Christmas tree.

Which to you prefer? The Grand, which is the dark green fluffy branched tree, or the Noble, which is the lighter green tree with short, thick needles with lots of space between the branches. Walk through the trees and take your pick.

Once you've decided on the perfect tree, Gary will come with his chainsaw and cut it for you. He's the one who labors and fusses over the trees. You can see him out in August, trimming and shaping each and every one.

Or, if you'd rather, you can bring your own saw and do it yourself. It takes about 45 seconds to cut a tree that took 8 years to grow. Then, if you are lucky, all you need to do is get someone to take the other end, and together you walk it down the road, across the street, and your tree is home for the holidays.

Now, if you live in the big city, you may want to make sure you are sitting down before you read this next bit, because it will shock you. Are you ready? Okay. Guess what the 6' Noble fir cost?

Twelve.

Dollars.

Not one hundred and twelve dollars, which is what someone I know paid for his city tree.

These trees cost just $12 and it is an simply an honor to have one in your house.

Happy, fun and cute

Happy. That's how it feels. Fun. Cute. That's what it makes you think.

A fellow GroveAtopian came up with this idea and made it into a bumper sticker. Don't you just love it? You probably even want one of your own.

Well you are in luck, because it just so happens you can get one of your own if you click right here.

Put it on your car and see what happens. Discover if you know what it's like to Feel Grove-y. It probably means something different to each of us, and we may not even be able to put it into words, but together, we know what it is.

Our rain is back

Someone said that today. Most would be sad under these conditions, but here in GroveAtopia, the return of rain makes us happy. We breathe a sigh of relief.

Especially now because we just came out of one of the coldest weeks ever. Last week it was 5.

If you are like me, the number 5 is a dollar bill, the age of a kindergartner or an easy number to count by. But last week, here in GroveAtopia, 5 meant degrees. As in 5 degrees. As in really, really cold. Last week, we had someone else's weather, not our own.

Many people think the weather in GroveAtopia, especially in winter, is downright dismal. Rain, rain, rain. Grey, grey, grey. They couldn't handle it they say.

But we can. And we do. And we expect and accept it.

Last week, however, was different. First it was cold. For us, that means below 20. Brrr. But it didn't end there. Day after day it colder and colder.

Then one day it was 5. Pipes froze. No matter what, you could not get warm.

Now let's be clear. This is not our weather. It comes from somewhere else and we don't like it.

But today, finally, it was raining. 50 degrees and raining, big fat raindrops - the kind that sneak up on you and suddenly begin to drop from the heavy clouds in the grey sky - that's what we know. That's what winter is supposed to be.

Those who don't understand why we live here because of the weather, merely see just that. The weather. They see rain, and grey, wet and green. They just don't understand.

We GroveAtopians know better. When we see rain in winter, we see it as "our rain" because we know anything worse really belongs somewhere else.

Someone died

It happens all the time. In fact it happens about every 10 seconds. Someone somewhere dies.

It even happens in GroveAtopia. Judging by the obituaries, it happens about once a day, on average. Maybe not quite that often, but close.

Even though GroveAtopia is a small place, most of the time, when one of us dies, most of us don't know them. But we look at the obituaries anyway because lots of times there is someone there with a familiar last name, and lots of times we know someone who knows them or is related to them. But most of the time, we don't know them personally.

Except this time.

This person died a couple of days ago and it was completely unexpected. About a week ago she told someone she couldn't come to a school field trip because she "felt yucky." She went to the doctor, who put her in the hospital and a week later she was dead. From cancer. That she didn't know she had.

Look at her. She was young. She was pretty. And she had no clue she was sick.

Face it. This is pretty much the nightmare scenario we humans, GroveAtopians or otherwise, fear most. We never think we won't be here to do the next thing and the next thing and the next. Here we are, merrily going about our business, making the usual assumptions that we will be here tomorrow and beyond, planning all the events that fill our days, some banal some not, when suddenly, out of the blue, we feel "funny" and find out it's fatal. Face it. We don't want to face it.

At the service today there was lots of talk about how she is not really gone because she will live on forever in our memories. But can that really be true? Memories are lovely but they are not the person, not at all. Memories do not move forward into the future, nor do they really comfort. Right now, in the fresh aftermath of this death, they only serve to remind us she is not here and won't ever be again.

Among death's many cruelties is its power to deny us the chance to see what happens next. We may believe we will still be here in some sense - perhaps hovering around overseeing everything - but we won't be a part of it. We will be wherever death is and everyone else will be here.

There were lots of mementos from her life. Among the most poignant was the stuff from her desk at work. Her pictures, her little reminders, sayings, her stapler. And there were emails, all sent to her during her brief stay at the hospital, all wishing for the thing that didn't happen; that she get well soon.

You don't even want to know that she had 2 little boys and that she was a supermom in every sense of the word. That means that a whole lot of little children, those who were friends with her sons, as well as their teachers were affected by her death. And of course many many more were touched by this death.

Knowing that, I dare you to click on the title of this post. But be warned. It will take you to a blog her family put together as the outcome unveiled itself in just 7 short days. You have to be really brave to read it.

Lots of people came to the service. That made her family feel good. They said so. Perhaps there is some solace for them knowing she had so many people in her life. But no matter how many people came, and no matter how many kind words were said, one thing remains. She is gone and she is never, ever coming back.