Of all the trees in the forest, only these stayed green in the darkest days of winter. The sharp, stately holly. The ivy, curled around its trunk.
She took this walk every Christmas morning. This time, she startled a deer, and it bounded away in a burst of snow.
She wondered, what do you want for Christmas?
Then: what do I want, come to that. I never really know.
She snipped some holly twigs. Spiky leaves, rosy berries. Wrapped the bouquet with ivy.
Still green. In these darkest days, she could find Spring.
She thought: you know what? That’ll do.