This must be the morning to buy Christmas trees. I sit at the traffic light and watch car after car cross the intersection in front of me with a hair-netted Christmas tree strapped to each roof.

As I drive down the road I ask myself if I want to put up my tree today. It’s just a 4’-high twig tree, but perfect for showing off favorite ornaments, and easy to carry up the basement stairs by myself. Then there’s the boxes of ornaments and decorations, none too heavy, especially if friends come to visit and see the merry twinkle lights and let me tell them about the balsa wood angel with a fringe of feathers for a halo I bought in Rothenberg, Germany, or the handmade bells my gram crocheted in fine red yarn.

Out on the highway, in the lane ahead of me, I spot a Christmas tree moving at a right good clip. Its branches are facing point end into the wind, waving and bouncing like a fan dancer gone wild.

The van in front of me changes lanes and I finally see the car the unfettered tree is attached to. It’s smaller than the tree. I fear if they hit a pot hole they’ll all be airborne.

As I pass the car I glance at the occupants. They look happy and oblivious their Christmas tree is about to take off – and them with it.

In the spirit of the season, before setting it in its stand, maybe I’ll take my little tree for a ride.