I remember that I saw a picture in a magazine of white trees, cut from paper that seemed so clean and pure in their design that they traveled around in my head until I could no longer resist the need to try to make one. I folded two sheets of paper together and stapled them together, then took a little pair of surgical scissors and started cutting through all four layers. No drawing. No plan. Just cutting. And to my utter amazement I had a pretty little tree with a star on the top and birds on its branches.
For the next week, every time I had a spare moment I was cutting trees. I threw the duds away, but I kept the best of the bunch. They decorated our mantel that Christmas, then I folded them up, put them in the envelope and only remembered to take them out a few times in the ensuing years. One year I decided to try making more and all were utter failures. Then I forgot about them completely until they turned up during the move.
I hope I'm not bragging when I say there was something kind of magical about those trees—all cut in the space of a frenetic week or so, never to be repeated. Over the next few weeks I will share the rest of them with you. I hope you enjoy them. I almost feel like someone else made them. A gift from my much younger self.
I hope you all have spread the word about the danger of small children swallowing batteries. Sandy's grandchild is recovering, but has been very, very ill and is still in the hospital. This was not trivial. You can read the details on her blog. This was a wakeup call for us to assess our house for this and other dangers.