The Watering Can

One of the many histories drummed into us as children is that society was once based around hunting and gathering. Men hunted, women gathered and both were emotionally and physically built to suit. Now we are nicely domesticated, we've had a feminist revolution where men have been brought down from manly hunters to kumbaya singing metro-sexuals, the hunt and gather has been moved into supermarkets, and yet, I keep to the old role of gatherer.

The only part of gathering in a highly populated area that I don't like is dealing with the crowds. Yesterday morning was the worst! Slowly, so slowly I gathered and as soon as I could get out of the commissary I bolted. The slow movement down the isles not only gave me a bad mood but the need for two Advil. After it kicked in and I calmed down my husband turned to me as asked, "Well? How about going to get a Christmas tree?"

After going to the tree farm, picking and cutting down our Frasier Fur, and getting it into the stand I turned to the decorations while Les went to find a watering can. Halfway through the decorating Les came in and said he couldn't find the watering can. I'd forgotten that I'd gotten rid of it at one point or another and so my quick thinking husband came up with a brilliant plan. He poured us a glass of the last of the ice wine and turned the rinsed bottle into a watering can.

Do you know how little liquid can be held in a bottle of ice wine? I laughed again and again as he poured bottle after bottle of water into the tree stand through the spiny branches of the tree. It is just one more way that Les has brought joy to the holidays.