Tree massacre.

I saw a Christmas tree massacre the other day. It happened in the parking lot of a local park. I was walking in the park, admiring the snow and the blue sky. There was a tree shredder parked in the lot, and every now and then, a dump truck would pull up beside the shredder, full with discarded Christmas trees. A man would crawl into the bed of the truck and toss the trees down. Another man picked the trees up off the asphalt, held them upside down and inspected them for rogue ornaments or strands of lights. Two more men lifted the trees that had already been inspected and fed them into the shredder. Everyone wore gloves.

Between pauses of the roar of the shredder, I could hear the trees still packed into the bed of the dump truck whispering among themselves, But we were so elegant in our finery, they murmured. We were so grand and beautiful and loved .

Then the shredder would start again.

The smell of the freshly cut pine riding the sharp winter breeze was so elegant and grand.

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