Trees and Stockings
My Grandaddy Cozart was, hands down, the worst judge of Christmas trees ever. That is not an exaggeration. The second week of December, Grandmamma, bless her heart, sent him out into the back woods to cut one down. While he was gone, My sister Dena and I helped her pull out the box of lights and ornaments.
Every year I had visions of a beautiful pine with long green boughs that was so tall we would have to lop the top for the star to fit. We would definitely have to go into town to buy more garland because the measley amount in the box wasn't near long enough to go around the grand tree that Granddaddy was scouting in the woods.
And every year, without fail, Granddaddy came home dragging a Charlie Brown Christmas tree.
As a matter of fact, it was more of a big branch than ...