Month: December 2024

Christmas Eve honey tree

Introduction: During this season of giving thanks and gifts, I have been sharing excerpts from my book, “Soul of the Outdoors,” which was released at the end of last year. For the holiday season, the book is available through me at a special price (see information at the end of this post). As we close in on Christmas, this excerpt is the last half of the introduction to “Sometimes the Best of Times: November-December.” The first half of this piece was in an earlier blog, “A Waning Day in Autumn.” We pick up this piece at the first mention of Christmas. Enjoy.

… I’ll search for a Christmas tree in the woodlot. Or a honey tree at Christmas, for it was such a tree on a December day that nudged me toward the wonder of nature. It’s a childhood memory in which I see my father and myself on the hillside pasture beyond our barn.

It’s the afternoon of Christmas Eve. A chainsaw churns into an old oak tree. It falls to the ground. My dad stops the chainsaw, reaches into the hollow trunk and takes out pieces of honey bee combs. In the cold, the honey is too thick to drip. He places the golden combs in a stainless steel milk pail.

I recall the fascination and magic of honeycombs, of small snowflakes dancing through the gray afternoon, my cold fingers, my inquisitive dad. Did we stumble upon the bees’ summer work or did dad know this present was in this tree? I think the latter, for why else would he bring along the clean pail? I’ll never know for sure; oh, the things we wish we had asked our parents.

I would guess he saw it and took note during deer hunting, or on a late summer search for a cow and its newborn. I do the same now, noting and returning to the nests of bald-faced hornets and goldfinches, and the drying stands of pearly everlasting.

I remember the afternoon growing dim as we made our way home, Christmas lights twinkling in the windows, mom’s Christmas Eve meal in the oven, our sweet find in the pail. It was December, and now it is again. And now, like then, I bring home the gifts of early winter as I was taught, and the knowledge that seasons come and go, as do our trials and tribulations, as I have learned.

We find beauty and hope in the new season, the new day, the new chapter, and the sweet treat in the tree.

Note: Thr0ugh the holiday season, “Soul of the Outdoors” is available through me at the special price of $17. For a personally-signed book, email davegreschner@icloud.com or text or call me at 715-651-1638. The book is also available through online book sellers, including Amazon, and at Wisconsin bookstores in Rice Lake (Old Bookshop), Eau Claire (Dotters), Menomonie (Dragon Tail), Hudson (Chapter2Books), Spooner (Northwinds), Three Lakes (Mind Chimes), and Bayfield (Honest Dog), and in Duluth, Minn., at The Bookstore at Fitger’s.

Settling into winter

Introduction: During this season of giving gifts, I am sharing excerpts from my book, “Soul of the Outdoors,” which was released at the end of last year. For the holiday season, the book is available through me at a special price (see information at the end of this post). The following is an excerpt from the chapter, “Woodland Settles into Winter,” from the November-December segment of the book. Enjoy.

Winter settles deep into the woodland, the chilly silence pierced only by the roar of my chainsaw spinning toward the core of the hardwoods.

The saw settles into a downed oak branch, scattering wood chips on the snow while slicing off 16-inch hunks of firewood. I pick up the pieces and bang the smaller ones together. A sharp smack rings through the leafless forest.

Then the saw unsettles winter in the middle of the firm but dying tree trunk. Caramel-colored rings tell me the oak has seen many winters. This is its last.

I come to the woods for more than wood. In early December, I come to make sure that some deer remain after the hunt, and that the first frigid blast hasn’t scared away the squirrels, rabbits, foxes, and ruffed grouse. I know the answers before I arrive, but reassurance is good for the soul, and a good reason to take to the woods.

In her 1942 book, “We Took To The Woods,” Louise Dickinson Rich writes of winter, “You can neither remodel nor ignore a thing as big as winter. In the woods, we don’t try. We just let winter be winter, and any adjustments that have to be made, we make in ourselves and our way of living.”

As the afternoon wanes, the half-lit first quarter moon starts to brighten quite high in the eastern sky. The full moon is exactly a week away, when the large sphere will rise at sunset. It’s a dreamy afternoon, and I think of the song verse, “There’s a new moon on the fourteenth, first quarter twenty-first, and a full moon in the last week brings a fullness to the earth.”

I feel the fullness. It’s getting dark as I haul my firewood to the truck. I pick up the pace and start sweating despite the chill that rides in on the sunset. I drive away, content that nature here is well, making all the adjustments for another winter.

Note: Want to read more nature essays such as this? Thr0ugh the holiday season, “Soul of the Outdoors” is available through me at the special price of $17. For a personally-signed book, email davegreschner@icloud.com or text or call me at 715-651-1638. The book is also available at regular prices through online book sellers, and at Wisconsin bookstores in Rice Lake (Old Bookshop), Eau Claire (Dotters), Menomonie (Dragon Tail), Hudson (Chapter2Books), Spooner (Northwinds), Three Lakes (Mind Chimes), and Bayfield (Honest Dog), and in Duluth, Minn., at The Bookstore at Fitger’s.